Interrogation
by HR always live on
Summary: Set at the end of Series 7 where Harry met with the Russians. Instead of selling him to Mani, he's taken back to Moscow. Completely AU in that Adam never died, Ruth never left, and HR are married. Chapter 18 up, now complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Another story, and this one gets darker in the later chapters. Set at the end of Series 7, and Ruth never left. Also Adam didn't die either (I am living in denial very happily).**

* * *

"I have to go," Harry said.

"I know," she said. Harry looked at her for a moment. They were in the privacy of hi office, and Ruth felt relieved at that. She could speak her mind.

"You're not going to try and talk me out of it?" he said

"No," Ruth said with a smile. "I'm not. Because I know nothing I say will make a difference anyway, so why bother. You'll go to meet Sarkisian anyway."

"I do have to stop a nuclear bomb going up in London," he said. "In order to do that, I have to stop those Russians from targeting Adam and Ros and Connie. You know that."

"Oh yes," she said. "I know all the logic behind your decision." She sighed and shook her head. "Just be careful," she said, letting the emotion colour her voice for once. "I want you back in one piece. Okay?"

"Yeah," he said shortly. He pulled her close and kissed her fervently, desperately.

"No, don't kiss me like that," she whispered against his full lips. "It's too much like goodbye."

"No," he said. "It's a kiss which is telling you to stay safe until I see you again."

"Just make sure that I see you again soon," she said, allowing a small smile to creep onto her face.

"I will," he said. He kissed her fervently again, then looked into her beautiful blue eyes. "You know I can't stay away from you."

"Hold onto that," she said. She squeezed his hand tightly and then sighed with disappointment as he walked away from her, out of his office. She watched through the glass as he left and caught his eyes as he went through the pods. Ruth closed her eyes when alone, feeling an acute sense of loss. God, she hoped he'd be careful.

* * *

There was a light knock on the door and Ruth turned as Malcolm poked his head around the corner. "Are you all right?"

"No," she said, her voice feeling thick. "No Malcolm I'm not. I might never see him again."

"I know," Malcolm said. Instead of offering false comfort he nodded sadly. After a minute or two of silence he felt he had to "Harry's smart. He's been around a long time."

"Am I worrying for nothing then?"

"No you're not," he said. "Harry's walking into the arms of people who want him dead."

"That's comforting," she said sarcastically.

"I need you on surveillance," he said gently. "When you're ready."

"Thanks," Ruth said. She was alone for a few moments and felt two tears fall down her cheeks. "Oh come back to me Harry. I want you safe with me," she said to herself. She shook her head, wiped her cheeks and went back onto the grid. After all, she had work to do.

* * *

About an hour later the nuclear bomb was disarmed. Ruth could breathe a small sigh of relief, knowing that the centre of London (herself included) wasn't going to become ground zero. She could now use her full intellect to worry about Harry. She'd called him about a dozen times but it kept going straight through to voicemail. Worry was crossing the line into full blown panic now.

"Malcolm, I need you," she called across the grid even as she pressed redial. The phone was pressed to her ear hard, but all she heard was Harry's voicemail yet again as Malcolm walked over to her. "Harry. I don't know where he is and I'm trying to stay calm, but he did walk straight into the arms of his enemy. Help me to find him."

He instantly went behind his desk, typing away. "Did he have his phone on him? I'll track it."

"He did. Last I knew," Ruth said as she attempted to hack into the FSB's cameras at their base in London. It was supposed to be impossible but within ten minutes she had all the footage queued up and ready to play.

"His phone's been stripped of its battery and SIM," Malcolm said. "I can track its last known location though."

"Which is?" Ruth asked, knowing she wasn't going to like the answer, even as she asked.

"It was travelling in a car, which belongs to one of Victor Sarkisian's henchmen. That's where it was before it was disabled, and I'm guessing being thrown out of the car window."

"How long ago?"

"About half an hour," Malcolm said. Ruth closed her eyes as waves of heart wrenching pain went over her.

"He could be dead," she said. "They could have shot him a hundred times by now."

"They won't have," Malcolm said with what she thought of as massive overconfidence.

"They're Russian! They have no morals at all, and they wouldn't flinch at murder. How can you say that?"

"Because why bother moving him if they're only going to shoot him? If they wanted him dead, he would never have left the FSB base alive."

"We don't know that he did," Ruth said. "We know his phone did, not him."

"Then I suggest you watch that CCTV you've just hacked into," Malcolm said gently.

"Okay," she said, her voice sounding very small. She rewound the footage to the time when Harry left the grid. Then she played it back, zooming through it, looking for Harry. She soon found him, being led into the meeting room, a black bag over his head, hands tied in front of him. Well, he got there alive, she thought to herself. That's something. She played the footage at normal speed and watched as the bag was pulled from his head. A conversation ensued and several phone calls from Sarkisian. Ruth guessed it was Harry telling them about the nuclear bomb threat.

Then nothing happened in the room. They were clearly waiting, but for what Ruth didn't know. She rubbed her wedding ring as a talisman as she willed something to happen, not daring to fast forward on the footage in case she missed something. A phone call was received and Ruth wished this footage had volume so she could know what was going on. She could see that there was a lessening of the tension in the room and guessed the information that the bomb had been disarmed had got through. She waited with baited breath as the rest of the events unfolded in front of her eyes.

* * *

Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he listened to the call. The bomb had been stopped. No one had died except Connie James, and quite frankly that loss didn't bother Harry one bit. He watched as Sarkisian put the phone down. "You were right," he said. "There was a nuclear bomb. It' been disarmed."

"Great. Can you loosen these?" Harry asked, looking at the plastic tie on his wrists.

"I'm afraid not," Sarkisian said, an evil smile on his face. "You're coming with us." Harry sighed.

"That was not part of the agreement," Harry said firmly.

"You walk right into an FSB base alone, and expect to walk back out again?" Sarkisian said. "You are a top level MI5 spy. And lets face it, what would you do if you were me?"

Harry rolled his eyes, he couldn't help it. Then he felt two Russian thugs hands on his shoulders, pulling him forward. Well, he just hoped the team would manage to get him back before he got to Moscow. Because if they didn't… God, he didn't even want to think about it. He curled his fist tightly, feeling the hard metal of his wedding ring on his skin. Ruth. Oh, Ruth. He wanted to see her. He wanted to kiss her again. To relive that last kiss, and believe it would happen again. And soon.

Harry was distracted from his thoughts by the Russian bodyguards leading him outside. There was a car waiting there and Harry sighed with anticipated discomfort. Sure enough, it took only a few moments for them to shove him in the car boot. Harry winced as they slammed the boot shut, the noise making him uncomfortably aware of how vulnerable he was. This had not been part of the plan at all.

* * *

**Thank you for reading, and it would be great if you could leave a review for the first installment.**


	2. Chapter 2

Harry looked out of the helicopter window, his heart still in the centre of London. He was being taken to Moscow. He hadn't been told where he was going, but he'd been a spy long enough to know what they were doing. After all, it's what he would do. No doubt Sarkisian had reported to his superiors and they had told him that Sir Harry Pearce was to be transported to Moscow with all haste. Again, it's what he would have done, had the positions been reversed.

He felt like an idiot for walking into their trap, but after all, what else could he have done? Let FSB agents kill Adam and Ros, thus letting a nuclear bomb detonate in London. He probably wouldn't be here to argue the point had that happened. Nor would Ruth. _Ruth_. God, he wanted to see her. He didn't want to be here, to be taken away from the country he loved and the woman he adored. He looked as the British coastline fell away from sight, bit by bit. He wondered if he would lay eyes on it ever again.

What didn't help him was the fact that Lucas North had been brought back from Russian captivity after eight years only a couple of months ago. Harry knew in graphic detail what they did to their prisoners in general and spies in particular. Lucas was still in Tring, trying to recover from the hell they'd put him through. Harry knew it was the best place for Lucas, but when he had to sign the order, it had made his heart fall. The reward for a lifetime of service. It hardly seemed fair. But Harry knew that fate now awaited him. It was not a happy thought.

As they changed from a helicopter to a private plane on the outskirts of Paris, Harry vowed to hold one thing to his heart. Ruth. If he could think of her, he might just make it out of Moscow alive, and with his sanity. It was his only hope.

* * *

Ruth swallowed against the lump in her throat. It didn't help. Adam and Ros had been checked out by the medic and been determined fit, so they had reappeared on the grid, as had Jo. Ruth suddenly felt like the grid was too crowded and she wished for fresh air. All she wanted was to go up to the roof, breathe in the damp cool London air, and have Harry wrap his arms around her, whispering in her ear that everything would be all right. But that wasn't going to happen was it? She was also acutely aware of the fact that everyone in the meeting room was either looking at her, or thinking "poor Ruth."

"Say it," she said to Malcolm, still looking at the wood grain of the table. "Just tell me the worst."

"He was taken by a Russian owned helicopter to the outskirts of Paris. I've lost the trail from then, but there was a private airfield with an unscheduled direct flight to Moscow. I'm guessing Harry's on it."

"How sure are you?" Ruth asked, finally looking up, and catching Malcolm's eye, but no one else.

"Fairly sure," he said. "I have no proof, but no one in Russia will tell me who was on that flight. The plane wasn't originally scheduled to fly today, and…"

"And what?" Ros questioned quietly.

"Well, doesn't it make sense that they'd take him back to Moscow as soon as possible?"

"Unfortunately yes," Adam said. "We have to work on getting him back." Ruth was glad that someone else was taking charge because it felt like she couldn't physically do it.

"Of course," Malcolm said, dignified.

"But how do we do that?" Jo put in.

"We have to find out exactly where he's being held," Adam replied.

"Nowhere yet," Ros said. "Surely he's still in the air. They might be FSB, but they can't move Moscow closer to London just out of sheer force of will."

"So we track all private airfields, CCTV, anything we have access to," Adam said.

"Or can hack into," Malcolm added practically.

"Yes," Adam said. "Find out where he lands and don't lose him. We need to know where they put him."

"It feels so inactive though," Jo said. "Just sitting and watching. It doesn't achieve anything."

"It gives us knowledge," Ros said. "And we need that." There was an awkward silence in the room which Ruth knew was directed at her. She knew they were waiting for her input but she simply had nothing to say.

"Excuse me," she said, scraping her chair back and leaving the meeting room as fast as she could without running. She went straight up to the roof, feeling the tears roll silently down her cheeks. Looking over the skyline, all she wished for was Harry. She couldn't think of a logical way to bring him home. Any logic at all had escaped her mind as she thought of a hundred different ways the Russians could be interrogating her husband. Interrogating probably wasn't the right word though. No, torture would be far more accurate. As she thought the word two more full tears ran down her face.

It seemed like a few seconds later when the door banged open and Adam came up onto the roof. She wondered if he'd drawn the short straw in coming to talk to Harry's wife. It was a bitter thought. He stood next to her, leaning on the rail.

"I know there's nothing I can say…"

"You're right," she said coldly.

"We're going to get him home," Adam said firmly.

"We can't," she said simply. "Even if we miraculously found the… prison they're going to take him to, we can't get him home. You know where Lucas North was kept. If anything, Harry will be held more securely because he knows that much more. The Russians will never give up the head of counter terrorism of MI5. They will torture him for information. For months, Adam. He will be in agony for _months_. Then when they decide he has no more information to give them, when he's outlived his welcome, they will… kill him."

"That's the worst possible outcome," Adam said. "It might not happen.

"Oh Adam," she said sadly.

"The Russians might be amenable."

"When have they ever been before?"

"Ruth. Stop." He spoke so firmly that she had no reply. "You're thinking of the worst possible scenario. And I understand why. But you need to pull yourself together, so you can help him."

"I can't," she said. "There is nothing I can do Adam."

"Of course you can," he said, a cheeky smile on his face. "You're Ruth Evershed. Is any institution, global or otherwise safe from you? You're brilliant at your job Ruth. You need to be to help him." She closed her eyes, feeling yet another tear fall. "So you're going to cry out all of your tears, and then you're going to help us with the Moscow surveillance. Okay?"

She nodded silently and then felt a start of surprise go through her as Adam pulled him to his chest. She let herself go and sobbed her heart out. As she cried into his shirt, she realised something. She didn't need Harry to be home at this very second, all she needed was a little bit of hope and some comfort from someone who cared. And as Harry wasn't here, Adam was a very good second.

* * *

**Thank you so much for the reviews and the encouragement for chapter one. More soon.**


	3. Chapter 3

Harry could feel the tiredness beginning to creep in. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept, and being stuck on a plane for four hours while trying to remain alert hadn't helped either. Once off the plane, he'd had another black bag thrown over his head, and driven through what he guessed to be the outskirts of Moscow. He'd been led to an anonymous building (which Harry guessed to be some kind of prison) and once inside had had his mask removed. He'd finally had the ties cut off of his wrists too, much to his relief. There were raw marks on his skin, where he'd unconsciously pulled at the tie and it felt good to be less restricted.

That was until he found himself guarded by three Russian henchmen, being led through the lower floors of the prison. He'd been handed off to so many people that he stopped even noticing the faces. It was pointless, because he'd soon be handed over to someone else. He was stripped and then given a prison jumpsuit to wear in a vivid orange. Harry was beyond caring about the colour and put it on, even as he felt his heart sink. He was now nothing more than a prisoner. A criminal. Well, at least to the Russians. It was a slight relief to him that he'd been allowed to keep his wedding ring though. Maybe they'd simply overlooked it. Whatever the reason, Harry wasn't about to draw their attention to it.

Soon after he was led to a cell which had nothing in it, save a table and two metal chairs. It was grey, bleak, boring and the set up reminded Harry that he was about to be questioned. Would they make him wait long? He hoped not. He needed both sleep and water. But he needed to have a plan. What would he say to the interrogator when he arrived? He knew they'd start soft and he wouldn't be hurt right away. They would want to see if they could turn him willingly. When that proved in vain, as Harry knew it would, then they'd get serious, and he expected some pain to come his way. He could deal with pain, he knew he could. He just hoped he wouldn't let any sensitive information slip while he was being tortured. Tortured. Oh God, the price of being a spy had finally come for him.

He refused to think of anything negative. He would deal with what happened, as and when it did. For now, he sat at the table, clasped his hands together and waited.

* * *

Ruth sat, stone faced as she kept typing into the computer. She wasn't entirely sure she was having an effect, but she had to be doing something. "I need to meet the Home Secretary," Adam said suddenly, out of the quiet of the grid. Everyone turned to face him.

"Why?"

"Because the head of anti terrorism of MI5 has been kidnapped by a foreign power on our soil. I'm sure that can at least get the government to put some pressure on Moscow."

"Yes, you're probably right," Ros said. "But it's eleven in the evening. Even for Harry, Nicholas Blake won't talk to you now."

Adam looked at his watch, seeing with surprise that she was right. "Shit, Wes," he said to himself. He excused himself to make a phone call and the others looked at each other. No one wanted to say it, but they were all thinking how much more they could do tonight. They all needed to go home, sleep and try again in the morning. They were all anxious of suggesting it in front of Ruth though, and she knew it.

"Go," she said quietly, without any emotion. "If you want to go home, go. All of us don't need to be here anyway."

"We'll do more tomorrow," Jo promised her quietly. Ruth shrugged off the conciliatory gesture and kept looking at the CCTV she'd managed to break into. She heard shuffling footsteps as Jo, Ros, Adam, and the other staff she didn't work closely with started to melt away. When quiet had descended on the grid again she looked up, expecting to be alone. She wasn't. Malcolm was to her right, still typing away.

"You don't have to stay for me," she said. "You need your sleep too."

"So do you," he said. "Are you going home?"

"You know the answer to that," she said, a ghost of a smile on her face.

"Well then," he said. "I'll keep you company and try and get Harry home."

"Thank you."

"I'm not doing it for you," he said. "Harry… he's my oldest friend. He's my _only_ friend who knows what I really do for a living. I can't bear to have him stuck in a Russian prison either."

"Harry's not your only friend Malcolm," she said gently. She reached across and squeezed his hand. His lopsided grin faced her and she smiled back.

"Have you checked Lubyshenka?"

"Of course I have," she said. "He isn't there. I thought… because of Lucas, but no. I'm about 99 percent sure."

"I'll start on Vostolka then," he said.

"Thank you."

* * *

Harry still sat alone and he thought he'd been there for about an hour. He wished he had his watch on him so he could check. He heard a distant metal door being opened and he sat up straighter, waiting to be confronted by his Russian interrogator. He was surprised by the total dread that rolled inside of him. The door to his cell opened and Harry felt slightly surprised by the person who came in.

"Arkardy, it's been… not nearly long enough."

Katchimov was smiling as he sat down opposite Harry. "This time you get to see my capital city. What do you think?"

"Considering all I've seen of Moscow is this prison and the inside of a black bag, I don't think it's up to much." Katchimov smiled again at him. "The hospitality is somewhat lacking."

"True, too true," he said.

"I must be held as quite an important asset," Harry said, the thought suddenly occurring to him. "To get you out to a prison. Isn't this sort of thing usually beneath you?"

"Yes, but you're valuable," he said, his Russian accent already starting to irritate Harry.

"You know, there are people who will want me back in London. Very soon."

"But they have no idea where you are Harry," Katchimov said simply.

"I don't work with idiots," he said. "They will find out where I'm being held. Sooner or later."

"No, you don't work with fools," Katchimov agreed. "You work with your wife don't you?"

_Careful Harry,_ he thought to himself. _Don't hit him._ "I do," he said.

"Ruth is it not? She is pretty in a common English sort of way." Harry curled his hands into fists under the table to stop himself from punching him. It was only the knowledge that he'd be stopped from causing real damage to Katchimov by security guards that made Harry stay seated.

"Does my wife have anything to do with this?" he asked, trying to stay calm and keep his voice emotionless.

"Don't worry yourself Harry. As far as I'm aware she's safely tucked up in London. If she's not, it will have nothing to do with me." Harry felt a slight lessening of the tension in his stomach, even though Katchimov could be lying. Logically he knew Ruth would be safe, but a part of him was worrying anyway.

"You know the game Harry. You know what I have to do next. It's the way this goes."

"You're going to torture me until you get all the information you can from me. Then probably shoot me. Am I wrong?"

"Close enough. Unless you want to tell me all the information now and save everyone the trouble?"

"Oh Arkardy, you will not believe anything I tell you willingly. You'll think I'm lying."

"You probably would be."

Harry nodded, acknowledging the possibility. "You're not stupid. You know there will be ramifications," Harry said.

"To what?"

"You kidnapped a senior British intelligence officer from his capital city. Do you really think that won't have political consequences?"

"Oh it will," he said. "I daresay some angry phone calls will be coming from London. But, for the time being…"

There was silence between the two men as they stared at each other.

"Goodbye Harry." Katchimov got up and walked to the door.

"A drink of water would be appreciated," Harry said, stopping him in his tracks.

"I'll see what I can do. Dream of your pretty little wife tonight." The door closed with a loud clang and Harry was left alone, with nothing but depressing thoughts for company.

* * *

**Thank you for the reviews so far, and I hope this chapter was up to scratch too. Hopefully more tomorrow. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

It was eight in the morning and her eyes were itching with tiredness, but she had at least had a minor breakthrough. Harry was being held in a prison about ten miles outside of Moscow. Vragamov Rodini. A high security detention facility, specialising in foreign nationals. Another words, a building designed for the torture of spies. Ruth swallowed uncomfortably as that thought came to her. Harry would most likely be mistreated, and more than mistreated there. It had taken her about three hours to hack into those cameras, and once she had, she managed to find Harry on the footage. His head was covered with a bag, but she knew it was him being led into the prison. He still wore the same clothes he had the last time she'd seen him, though rumpled and looking more than a little worse for wear. But other than that, she knew it was him from the way he walked. She'd watched Harry from across the grid for so many years, that she just knew.

She wrote down the unfamiliar name of the prison and gave the note over to Malcolm, who looked as tired as she felt. "God, I've heard about there," he said, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. "Not good."

"And?"

"I only know about it by reputation," Malcolm said. "Nothing more. And nothing concrete." He yawned. "I need to get some sleep," he said. "So do you."

"I can't leave," she said.

"We've found the prison. What more that can be done, will be done. A few hours won't kill anyone. Not even Harry," he said, guessing her concern.

"I can't leave," she repeated, her voice plaintive.

"Sleep on the sofa in Harry's office," Malcolm, suggested. "That way you'll be here if something happens or you're needed." She looked at the darkened glass windows of Harry's office. The idea had its attractions, she must admit. Being close to the action, but still being able to sleep. Her logic was suffering from tiredness and she knew it.

"Tell Adam to wake me if anything develops," she said.

"I will leave him a message."

"Good," Ruth said. She couldn't deny how tired she was, and as much as she'd like to go on working without sleep, she was only human. She closed the door and lay down on the sofa. Even through her worry about Harry, even through a night where she was verging on the edge of major panic for the entire time, she managed to let go of everything. She was asleep before she could even find the energy to kick her shoes off.

* * *

Harry winced as he was hit yet again. It had started early in the morning and it hadn't let up for more than an hour now. And they hadn't even asked him any questions yet. He had his arms tied above his head and he knew he'd be black and blue by nightfall.

"Why aren't you asking me anything?" Harry asked between clenched teeth.

"Are you familiar with the slaves of Ancient Rome?"

Harry was completely confused. "What the hell does history have to do with this?" He groaned as another punch landed on his ribs.

"Well, they had a theory," the Russian said. "Evidence from slaves wasn't considered accurate unless it was extracted under torture." Another punch and Harry hissed with pain. "The thinking was that slaves would lie."

"Oh so that's what's behind this," Harry said, sense clicking in his brain. "You think I'll lie."

"You're Harry Pearce. Even for me, someone whose main job is torturing people like you, even for me your reputation precedes you." Another punch, this time directly against his stomach. Harry closed his eyes, the sharp throbbing pain going through him in waves. "You can lie as easily as breathing. You can construct elaborate schemes on the spur of the moment. So it's fallen to my unfortunate lot to do what I'm told."

The Russian drew back for another punch and Harry braced himself but the door opened, interrupting them both. A Russian man Harry didn't recognise came in. Clearly he was going to be asked something now.

"Seraphim."

"Oh you made an appearance then?" Harry asked, trying to stay calm.

"I want you to tell me about Seraphim." Another punch for good measure.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Harry said honestly. He'd never heard that word before in his life. It wasn't a code word, an operation, an agent or an asset that he was aware of. Of course he wasn't believed. A host of other questions were asked, but all he could do was grit his teeth through the pain.

* * *

Ruth awoke to a shake on her shoulder. "Hm?" she asked sleepily.

"It's me," Adam said. She opened her eyes and sat up, brought back to the present with a horrible thump.

"Harry," she said before she could form anything more logical.

"I have news," he said quietly. The tone made it clear it wasn't good. "I talked to the Home Secretary."

"And?"

"And he can put a certain amount of pressure on the Russians to give Harry back, but he can't make them do it."

"He can't…" Ruth struggled for a moment, absorbing that information. It took a while to permeate her brain. "So you're telling me that…"

"We can't get him back," Adam said softly. "Not politically."

"Oh God," she whispered. "So what do we do?" Adam was silent. And the silence was damning.

* * *

Harry collapsed on the floor of his cell feeling black and blue everywhere. His chest ached and he thought a rib had cracked. Maybe two. It hurt when he breathed, and even lying on the floor pressed against his newly forming bruises. And this was just day one. There would be more an worse where this came from. God, he didn't know how he would manage to cope with more torture. He'd been through all the anti interrogation courses, he knew what he was supposed to be doing, and what he was supposed to be thinking, but it just hurt so much. His chest throbbed. And his heart ached for his wife. He wanted to hold Ruth, and have her tell him that it would all be all right. So he closed his eyes, hoping that his dreams would take him there.

* * *

**Thank you for the great reviews so far. More soon.**


	5. Chapter 5

**4 weeks later**

* * *

Ruth unlocked her door, feeling on the very edge of her sanity. It was late, she'd worked overtime again. She only came home to sleep and feed Fidget. As well as her normal workload (which was large to begin with) she was using every spare minute to try and get Harry home. It wasn't having a great effect. MI5 had expelled every Russian agent from the country, refusing to cooperate with them, until they had Harry back. That hadn't done the trick, although Ruth did enjoy the fact that she knew without a shadow of a doubt that she wasn't being watched by the FSB.

"I know sweetheart," she said softly to the cat who was entwining himself around her ankles. "Lets get you fed." Ruth absently got the cat food and put it on the floor. Fidget meowed once and started eating, giving Ruth some time to think. Not that her thoughts ever got her very far these days. Her mind was imagining a Russian cell with Harry being tortured. It was that simple. The problem she had was that she had researched so many things and people while working on the grid. She knew what human beings could do to each other, and she had an active imagination too. She dearly hoped that some of the things she was imagining, Harry's captors wouldn't think to do to him.

"I miss you Harry," she said to herself, feeling tears prick her eyes. "God I miss you." To be entirely fair, she didn't even know if Harry were still alive. The last image she'd seen of him had been of Harry being led into that prison which gave her nightmares. He could be dead a thousand times over by now and she would have no idea. The romantic streak in her said no. If he were dead, she would somehow know it. She'd feel it, somewhere in her subconscious. The logical side of her knew that was utterly ridiculous.

"Come home to me alive Harry," she prayed aloud. "Please. I need you. And I'm guessing you're in hell right now. And that you might need me too. Come home."

* * *

Harry cradled his right hand, feeling the painful throb of a broken bone. Only his little finger, and they'd strapped it up relatively quickly, but it hurt. A lot. God forbid they give him any painkillers. What he wouldn't do for a paracetamol right now. That wasn't nearly the worst thing they'd done to him either. He'd been shocked, burnt, half drowned and beaten to a pulp. And still there was no sign that he was going to get out of here any time soon. In his darker moments he wondered if he'd been forgotten about. Could Ruth really have forgotten him? No, he knew it wasn't true. It just felt like it sometimes.

If he could guess, he would assume she wasn't getting nearly enough sleep, was never home and was always on the grid, working to get him home. He hoped she was anyway. Not the lack of sleep part, but the rest. If he could just see her. Just once more he'd be happy. To see her smile. To see her eyes sparkle that gorgeous blue. And with that thought of wishing to see her just once, he knew he'd given up hope that he would ever leave Russia alive.

* * *

Ruth awoke with a jerk. She looked at the clock and saw it was three in the morning. She stayed perfectly still and then she heard it. Her door was being opened. She purposefully didn't oil the hinges and she heard the squeak. She got up silently, wrapping her dressing gown around her and reaching for the handgun Harry kept under the bed. She checked it was loaded and took the safety off, at the same time as hearing footsteps on the stairs. Light steps, but it was definitely someone. She steadied her breathing trying to keep calm as she opened her bedroom door and walked around the corner, gun held carefully.

"Ruth?"

"Bloody hell," she said, letting her breath out with relief. She recognised that voice. "Turn the light on." He did. Adam looked at the gun in surprise and stayed perfectly still.

"Why do you have a gun?"

"I heard an intruder in my house," she said acerbically, putting the safety back on and lowering the weapon. "What are you doing here? Couldn't you call?"

"I did call," he said. "Your phone's off or out of battery."

"Okay," she said. "What do you want?" she added bluntly. Adam looked at her. "Sorry. I become my normal charming self after a few more hours sleep. What's happened?" she added in a normal tone.

"Someone landed at Gatwick two hours ago."

"Who?"

"Arkardy Katchimov."

"Oh Adam," she said desperately. "Tell me that we caught him. Tell me that we have him in custody. He's not supposed to be in London and if we have…"

"We can trade him for Harry," Adam said, filling in the blanks. "Yes. He's in one of our holding cells."

"Oh God." She almost cried at the news. "Do you think… can we really get him back?"

"I think we can," Adam said. "We've got to wait until a reasonable time in Moscow to make the call. Annoying the FSB by calling in the middle of the night isn't a great start, but I think we have a good shot. I'll bargain with Sarkisian tomorrow. But I thought you'd want to know."

Ruth reached for Adam and hugged him, the beginnings of relief going through her. Relief and hope. "Thank you."

"Thank Malcolm," he said, shaking his head. "It wasn't my doing. We're going to get him home."

Ruth closed her eyes, and for the first time in weeks, she really believed that.

* * *

Harry dreamed of Ruth. She looked beautiful. Her skin glowed pale and almost translucent, her eyes shimmered, her dark hair curling around her ears and she was smiling. "I've missed you," she said quietly.

"I know," he replied, smiling at her blue eyes which he had wanted to see for so long. "I've been thinking of you. Every day."

"It's not going to be much longer," she said, her voice low. Almost a whisper. "I'm coming for you. Soon, you'll be free."

"I don't know," he said. "Everyday is a struggle now. I don't know how much longer I can survive."

"A couple more days," she said. "That's all. Then you'll be going home. I promise."

"Don't let me down Ruth," he said. She smiled brightly at him.

"I won't. When have I ever let you down?"

"Never," he said, smiling at her. "Have I told you how beautiful you look?"

"Not recently," she said. "I love you."

"I love you too," he murmured. He reached for her but couldn't. His hands wouldn't move towards her. He pulled and yanked, but his wrists felt like they were bound in iron. "I can't…" he said.

"You can't what?" a Russian voice said. He opened his eyes and found himself looking into the eyes of today's torturer. A dream. It had been a dream. Or a hallucination. Either way, he'd got his wish. He'd seen her one more time. He spluttered as a bucket of freezing cold water was thrown over him. Here we go again he thought bitterly. He sighed and closed his eyes as he felt the sharp stab of a knife in his side. He just concentrated on breathing in and out. It was all he could do.

* * *

**So there's a little bit of hope! More soon and a big thank you to those who've been kind enough to leave reviews.**


	6. Chapter 6

"No way," Adam said. "You're too emotional. He'll know that and he'll play you."

Ruth bit her lip because she knew he was right. If she went into that room with Katchimov she would most likely shout and scream, and then promptly fall apart.

"Ros is going to do it. She's the ice queen, you know that." Ruth smiled reluctantly.

"I want to watch."

Adam nodded in the direction of the interview suite. She walked over there and he followed her. Ros looked at them both and then walked in, sitting opposite Katchimov. "So tell me, why the sudden need to fly into Gatwick?"

"I fancied a change of air," Katchimov said evasively.

"Did you miss the memo on your desk telling you that FSB officers are no longer welcome in Britain?"

"Have we offended you?" Katchimov asked, smiling irritatingly.

"Well, considering Harry Pearce is currently being mistreated in Russia, we're a little pissed off." Ros spoke very calmly and Katchimov smiled again. He recognised a worthy adversary when he met one.

"I'm not stupid. Russian yes, stupid no. I am perfectly well aware that I would be tracked the second I set foot in the UK."

"Then why fly here?" Ros asked. "You must have known we'd pick you up."

"I did," he said. Ros waited, allowing the silence to spread out between them. "Look, I'm going to be honest. I like and respect Harry. We're very similar in some ways. We both love our countries. And we've both been doing this for an awfully long time."

"What's your point?" Ros asked.

"I don't like the way he's being treated," Katchimov said through gritted teeth.

"So he's not talking?" Ros said with a perfectly raised eyebrow.

"Oh he's talking," Katchimov said. "Talking plenty. But none of it makes any sense at all. It's all gibberish. Except when he moans that he's missing his wife. How is Ruth?"

"Sunbathing in the Caribbean," Ros deadpanned. Katchimov grinned. Ruth clenched her fist, feeling anger fill her. "So you expect me to believe that you flew here, because you dislike the way you're treating Harry?"

"There's no fun in it," Katchimov said. "I enjoy sparring with Harry, and I very much dislike the fact that the FSB have lost our foothold in the UK. We want our base back."

"What does that have to do with you being in London?"

"Harry needs to come home. Trade me for him. Is that not what you were thinking when I so conveniently walked into your country?"

"Why the change of heart?"

"It's undignified," Katchimov said. "We're not gaining anything, and… to be honest, I don't think he will survive much longer. If that happened, relations between our two countries would be permanently damaged for the next decade. Maybe longer. At the moment we're treading on thin ice, but its not irreparable. If the head of anti terrorism in Britain died under our care… no Russian spy, politician or dignitary would be welcome here for what? Twenty years at least. It's not worth it. Not when we're not gaining any intelligence from him anyway."

Ros looked at him cynically. "Anyway, the risk was minimal. As a country you're more civilised aren't you?" Katchimov said. "You treat captives... well."

"For you we might make an exception," Ros said. "I'll be back." She got up and left, wanting to speak to Adam and Ruth.

"What do you think?"

"He has us over a barrel," Adam said. "We'll have to give him back to Russia sooner or later. We might as well get some profit out of it. And it would get Harry home."

"Do you believe what he says? He almost sounds guilty about Harry's treatment," Adam said.

"It doesn't matter," Ruth said, shockingly level headed. "Whether its true or not, it doesn't matter."

"She's right," Ros said. "We need Harry back. And I'm willing to bet he needs to come home too. Either way, Adam you need to call Moscow."

"And those conversations aren't going to be pleasant," he said with the air of someone dreading a root canal. "I'll call," he added to Ros's sharp look.

"Now," Ruth said, her voice like acid. No one was going to argue with her.

* * *

"Pearce! Vstavay!" Harry struggled to his feet reluctantly. Three Russians had entered his cell and he looked at them, wondering what was next. "Hands. Now." Harry knew this format by heart by now, and he had learnt to his cost that fighting was useless. He put his hands in front of him, as his wrists were tied. "Come with us. Dvigaysya!"

Harry let out half a moan, half a shout of protest as a black bag was put over his head. He was yanked forward, a Russian pressing on his shoulders as he was led from his cell. Harry knew another round of torture was heading his way. What surprised him was instead of turning right out of his cell to the interrogation room he went left. That had never happened before. All the torture and interrogation rooms were to the right. This was new. Maybe they were going to kill him this time. The thought only brought him a slight twinge of regret. At least if he were dead the pain would be over. They couldn't hurt him anymore.

"Oh God," he breathed as the rush of fresh air hit his body. He was outside. He was actually breathing in clean untarnished air. No scent of blood or fear. Even through the cotton of the black bag he could smell the fresh air. It felt almost painfully good. It felt like he was alive again. At least his lungs were, filling with the sweet air. He hadn't realised his feet had stopped moving until a Russian elbowed him painfully in the back. "Get in."

Harry was shoved quite forcefully into the boot of a car. It hurt, but what hurt worse was the fact that he was being moved again. To somewhere worse? He hoped not. He didn't know how much he could deal with. The engine rumbled and he closed his eyes as the car started. He hated travelling in the boots of cars. As well as the fear of the unknown it was bloody uncomfortable.

* * *

"Are you going to keep this up for the entire flight?" Adam asked, looking at Ruth. She'd been drumming her fingers on the side of the plane, just underneath the window. The plane had only taken off about ten minutes ago and the noise was already irritating.

"I'm sorry," she said, clasping her hands in her lap. "I'm nervous, anxious, scared, angry, hurt and lonely," she said, each word coming through her lips slowly. "I want him back in one piece, and I can't help but worry."

"It's a four hour flight," Adam said bluntly. "Plenty of time to worry and scheme once we land. Right now, you have an empty block of time. I would guess you've been sleeping poorly, so close your eyes."

She rolled them, instead of closing them. "Sometimes I think you know me too damn well," she said, shaking her head. "Wake me before we land," she said, shifting on the seat and closing her eyes for a moment. She tried to let go of her worries, and managed it enough to doze lightly. She'd be seeing Harry soon. If all went well.

* * *

The exchange had been arranged, and naturally Ruth wanted to join Ros and Adam. Both had thought it a terrible idea and told her so.

"No Ruth, you can't come with us."

"You're picking Harry up after he's been tortured! Of course I'm coming!"

Adam shook his head. "Think rationally. He's bound to have mentioned something under torture, everyone does. It's highly likely that your name came up. If you go to meet with the Russians, and they double cross us, they might take you as well. To try and see if Harry told you anything. It's not safe for you, and Harry will throttle me if I let you walk into a trap. You know he would."

"But you and Ros have information too. You've both been in Thames House for years. They could easily kidnap you instead." Ruth's logic was struggling with the desire to see Harry as soon as possible.

"Yes they could," Adam admitted. "But we're both field agents. We can take care of ourselves because we've been trained for this. You haven't. You are wonderful at your job, and you know it. Please, stay at the hotel." Ruth sighed, and Adam knew she was arguing with herself. "Ruth, I can face FSB agents, I can face torturers, and the worst of humanity. I cannot face Harry Pearce after he's been tortured for a month and tell him that I let his wife be captured by Russian spies. Okay?"

Ruth glared at him, hatred boiling through her veins. Hatred for the situation though, not Adam. Because she knew he was right. "You call me the second he's safe," she said, her voice containing a note of steel more likely to be heard from her husband. Adam nodded once.

"Of course I will."

"Thank you." Ros checked both of her hand guns were loaded and nodded in the direction of the black SUV waiting for them with the engine running.

"We better get going," she said. "Before Katchimov decides to make a run for it." The Russian was tied up and trussed up in the back seat of the car. There was no way he could make a run for it.

"Stay at the hotel," Adam said firmly to Ruth. "I'm not joking Ruth. Please."

"I will," she agreed. The MI5 agent in her knew it was the right call. It didn't mean she liked it. "Take care of him."

"We'll bring him back safely," Ros said. "Trust me." Ruth smiled slightly and watched as they both walked over to the car. Ros sat in the drivers seat, which made Ruth smile. The engine roared and they drove away. Ruth felt her heart pumping uncomfortably hard in her chest. "Come home to me," she whispered. When the street was empty, she went back into the hotel, to sit and wait.

* * *

Harry's accommodation had been upgraded. His hands were tied behind his back, he still had a hood on his head, but he was now sitting in the back seat as they travelled to God knows where. He felt a stab of curiosity coming over him. He dared to ask, "where are we going?"

"Pokrov," came the grudging reply. Harry decided he didn't want to ask why, because it was unlikely to be good. So instead he waited, the rumble of the engine and the beeps of distant car horns attracting all of his attention.

* * *

**Thank you for the reviews so far, I hope this chapter is more pleasant!**


	7. Chapter 7

Ros parked the car and switched the headlights off, waiting. "Do you think they'll show?" she asked Adam quietly.

"Yes," he said surely. "Whether Harry's with them, or alive by this point, I'm not so sure of."

"What would you do?" Ros asked. "If you were Ruth."

Adam looked at her and realised the question was much deeper than talking about Harry and his wife. She was talking about them. "She's handled this very well, all things considered."

"I meant…"

"I know what you meant Ros," he interrupted. "I'd… if it were you, I'd go crazy. You must know that."

A small smile emerged on her lips. "It's nice to hear all the same."

"What about you?" he asked. "What would you do?"

"I'd have flown to Moscow as soon as I knew you'd been taken," she said quietly. "I probably would have got myself killed while trying to get you back home safely, but that's who I am. I'm more action that words."

"Thank God Ruth's more logical than you then," Adam said. "It was so hard for her, but you know she did the right thing."

"Maybe," Ros said. "If Harry's not in that car…" Adam looked up, seeing a car drive into the abandoned car park of a disused warehouse. It parked and the doors opened. Ros and Adam followed suit, Adam half dragging Katchimov out of the car. There were three people in the other car too, one of them with a black bag over his head. Adam held his breath as the unknown man got pushed forward and told to "walk" in Russian. The bag was taken off of his head and Adam let out a breath of relief. It was Harry. He was thinner than a month ago, had a full beard and looked dreadful, but it was him. Harry blearily looked around as Ros untied Katchimovs feet quickly and pushed him forward in a similar manner. Both spies crossed in the middle of the empty car park, not looking at each other. Adam had a tight grip on his gun, and didn't relax his hand even a fraction. Harry recognised Adam and the corners of his mouth twitched in a slight smile.

"You took your bloody time."

"It's great to see you too Harry," Adam said. Harry looked terrible, but Adam wasn't lying. It was good to see him. He nodded to the car and Harry got in. The Russians and the British looked at each other for long moments before they left. Not a word was spoken to each other. Ros drove away in silence, Adam sitting next to Harry in the back seat of the car. Not until they were back on the main road did anyone speak. Adam got his penknife out and cut off the ties on Harry's wrists.

"You look terrible," Adam said gently.

"Never mind that," he said, rubbing his wrists. "Where's Ruth? Is she safe?"

"She's at the MI5 owned hotel in Moscow. She's safe."

"You let her come to Russia?!"

"There was no "letting" her do anything," Adam pointed out. "Do you really think I could have left her in London?"

"Maybe not," he said, allowing a small smile to shine on his face.

"She wants you to call her."

"When are we getting out of Moscow?" Harry asked, taking the proffered phone.

"There's a flight tomorrow morning. Early. We need to be at the airport in about six hours."

"Perfect," Harry said, dialling Ruth's number from memory. "I want to get out of this country as soon as possible." He leaned back against the car seat, listening to the ringing of the phone. It only rang once.

"Yes?"

"Hi."

"Oh Harry, thank God," she said. "You're all right? You're with Adam and Ros?"

"I am," he said heavily. "Are you okay?"

"Am I okay?" she asked disbelievingly. "Of course I am. It's you I'm worried about. How are you?"

"Alive," he said fervently. "The rest… it'll heal."

"Well, I'm glad you're safe," she said, not focusing on the other half of that sentence for the moment. "Are you… going to be all right?" she couldn't resist from asking.

"As long as I get home to London, then yes," he said. "I hate Russia."

"I'm not surprised. I'll see you in half an hour or so. I'm not far away," she said.

"Good," he said. "I've… missed you."

She sighed happily. "So have I. I'll see you in a bit."

"Bye." He gave the phone back to Adam and closed his eyes. His longing for London was huge. He'd had no idea he was being given his freedom now, and the feeling was a giddy one, which made his head spin. "How… You know what, never mind."

"How did they treat you?"

"How do you think?" Harry said sarcastically. Adam looked at him in the silence. "I'm bruised and battered. I think I have a cracked rib, I definitely have a broken finger. I have two less teeth than I did when I left London and on top of that, I'm starving. Does that answer your question?"

"Harry, you've been in hell. We know that. But we're the ones who've managed to get you back," Adam said. "Don't take it out on us Harry. Please. And if you take it out on Ruth, I'll give you another punch. One which will be well deserved."

Harry smiled at that. "How's she been?"

"Worried sick, not eating and not sleeping because she's been too busy working. On getting you home. She's been more than worried about you. But she's been coping. Barely, but coping." Harry sighed. "She'll be an awful lot better once she sees you're alive."

"Then tell Ros to drive faster." Harry stretched his legs and sighed. He needed to see his wife.

* * *

**Phew, so Harry's safe! The reunion coming next, and a massive thanks for all the reviews so far. They really make this worth it.**


	8. Reunion

**This is clearly the chapter that everyone has wanted to read about, so I hope it's up to scratch. Thanks to TheChicaChic for giving it a read through for me, as it's an important chapter.**

* * *

He was stood outside door 341 of the hotel. He knew Ruth was in there but he needed a moment before he opened the door. He was leaving the terrors of Moscow behind him, and going to the woman he'd thought of more often than anything else over this past month. He took a deep breath and opened the door.

"Harry," she breathed. Her face split into a wide grin and he smiled back in reflex. She walked towards him and pulled him into an embrace, a soft gentle embrace. "I am so so glad to see you," she whispered into his chest.

"You have no idea how often I've thought of you over the last month," he whispered against the top of her head. "I've missed you so, so badly Ruth." She smiled against his shirt. She lost her tentativeness as the seconds turned into minutes and held him more firmly. Harry forced himself not to make a sound of protest as the pressure of her hands sent shocks of pain through him. But he wanted to hold her too, badly. So for the meantime he put up with the pain, because the simple joy of holding her, having her with him was too much to deny himself.

Her body felt soft and familiar against his, even through the layers of clothing between them. He ran his hands up and down her back, remembering her body. Reacquainting himself with the gentle curve of her spine, the place where he knew he'd be able to feel her ribs were their clothes not in the way. He breathed in deeply, remembering her scent as he smelt her anew. The lavender and fresh grass that seemed to be a remnant of her shampoo. And chips? He pulled back from her, having smelt food and looked around the room. He saw a table with plates loaded with food. His mouth watered at the smell and he couldn't believed he'd overlooked that to hold Ruth first. It showed how much he needed her he thought.

"I thought you might be hungry," she said, following his gaze. "I ordered room service. I thought…" He put his fingers over her lips to quieten her. He looked at her face, remembering the curve of her cheek he hadn't quite managed to capture in his fantasies of her. The sparkling intelligent blue eyes were there, though clouded with worry right now.

"You look worried," he said, stroking her cheek lightly.

"I am," she admitted. "About you," she added.

"If I frighten you I'm sure I can get another room," he said briefly, sitting down and feeling the exhaustion overwhelm him. He hadn't slept in nearly twenty four hours and he wasn't going to sleep until he got out of the country either. He'd already decided that.

"You don't frighten me Harry," she said bluntly, more than a little annoyed at his assumption. "I'm worried for you. Because of what you've been through."

Harry didn't have the energy or the inclination to pursue this conversation, not when the smell of fresh food was in the air. "I'll eat first and then talk?" he said. She nodded, her lips twitching slightly.

"I ordered far too much," she said. "Eat what you want."

"You need to eat too," he said, picking up a fork and spearing a chip. "I bet you haven't eaten recently."

"How on earth do you know that?" she asked in wonder.

"Because I know you," he said in between mouthfuls. "There's too much here for just me. So eat." She didn't need much convincing.

In an amazingly short time the room service tray was completely empty. They were both feeling pleasantly full, and a lot calmer. Ruth moved so she could look at his face and was struck by how much of a stranger he seemed. The beard covered most of his face and he looked so different. She lifted her hand and touched him gently. "I suppose I look different than when you last saw me."

"Yes you do," she said. "But the important thing is that I am seeing you. Alive," she added. "I was doubting it for a while there." Her eyes filled with tears and he felt his heart go out to her.

"Come here," he said quietly. He moved to kiss her and she responded very, very gently. He deepened the embrace and she smiled against his mouth.

"I've missed your kisses," she said, smiling at him. He smiled back at her, a small but genuine smile. "And this is different," she said, tugging gently on his beard.

"That reminds me, do we have a razor here?"

"Yeah," she said. "I got everything I could think of. Waiting for you to come back… well. It wasn't easy. So I got everything I could think of." He reached across and held her hand tightly. She smiled.

"Does this room have a bath or a shower or something? I want to wash."

"Er, yes," she said. "Bath and a shower. I didn't know which you'd prefer, after…" she tailed off, embarrassed.

"After the things that have been done to me," he finished, squeezing her hand to show he wasn't upset. "A bath would be good."

"Do you… do you want my help, or do you want to be alone?"

"No," he said firmly. "One thing I don't want right now is to be alone."

"Okay," she said. She smiled and lead the way to the bathroom, running the water hot. He watched as she slipped her shoes off and then busied herself with the bubble bath and checking the water temperature. She really had thought of everything, because on all surfaces in the bathroom were soaps, shampoos and shower gels. As well as a holdall with clean clothes inside it. He couldn't focus on her for long though, because the sound of running water distracted him. He reached for her quickly, grabbing her shoulder painfully tightly as the sound pulled him back.

_He couldn't breathe. Hands were holding him under water and he was thrashing, struggling so hard to get oxygen into his burning lungs. Black spots were at the edges of his vision when a strong hand yanked him back out of the water. He coughed and spluttered, breathing in the beautiful oxygen. "No. Stop!" he begged, chest heaving._

_"Tolkavetch."_

_"I don't know," he said. "No wait, please!" His head was forcibly rammed under the water level again and he couldn't breathe. His hands were tied behind his back and he pulled desperately without thought, needing to escape. The rope tore into the skin of his wrists and he could very absently feel the blood dripping down his wrists. He was much more desperate to get air than to worry about his hands. He couldn't hold his breath for any longer and his lungs expanded as he breathed in the cold icy water. He blacked out._

_When he came around he had a Russian pounding on his chest as he coughed up water. And then it started all over again._

"Harry," she said calmly. "You're here and you're safe," she said. He looked at her face, reminding himself of the fact. He let go of her shoulder, feeling bad that he'd dug his fingers into her. He knew that would have hurt but she said nothing. She turned the taps off and the absence of noise was a relief to him.

"Are you okay? Are you going to be okay?"

"I think so," he said, and they both knew they meant more than the immediate moment. "Yes, I think so."

"Good," she said. He nodded, then pulled off the ratty, worn and ripped T shirt he'd been wearing all day. Ruth gasped. She saw such a litany of damage on his chest that she couldn't stop looking at it. The bruises were red black and covered the entire expanse of his chest. Blood had dried everywhere too. There were burns, stab wounds and cuts littering his body. It really looked bad. There was still blood oozing from one of the injuries. "Oh God Harry, how are you even still standing?"

"I know it's bad," he said quietly. "You… you don't have to stay."

"Yes I do," she said. "Get in," she said, nodding at the bath. He smiled at the way she was speaking. So calmly and he marvelled at her. He smiled slightly as he continued undressing before getting into the hot water. He hissed with pain but didn't stop as he sank into the bathtub.

"This is probably a stupid question but are you in pain?"

"Only a little," he said. "It feels… good to see you."

She smiled a little as she picked up the sponge and started to rinse the blood away from his skin. She kept her touch deliberately light, trying not to hurt him. And she didn't for the most part. He closed his eyes under the gentleness of her touch and after a few minutes she kept scrubbing at one particular spot. He jerked and opened his eyes at the pain. "What are you doing?"

"It won't come off!"

He looked down and saw what she meant. He grabbed her wrist to make her stop and sighed. "It isn't going to come off Ruth."

"Then let me ask the obvious question," she said, forcing herself to be calm. "Why do you have the letter A tattooed on your chest?"

"It's my blood type," he said quietly. "They did it at the start. Just in case they went too far in one of the various tortures and I needed an emergency blood transfusion to keep me alive. They can't get information from a corpse after all. You know, the Russians are all about the hospitality."

Ruth looked away from him and he suddenly felt dirty, like he was tainting the very air around them. "Ruth?"

"No," she said. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to cry." She looked back at him and he saw the tracks of her tears on her face. "I'm sorry. I just keep thinking… how close I was to losing you."

"Are you disgusted by me?" he asked, needing to know.

"No," she said, shocked that he'd even think that. She stroked his face gently.

"Of course not." She was leaning over the bathtub so far that her shirt was getting wet, but she didn't care. "I am going to get this blood off of your chest, you're going to shave, and then you'll be perfect."

"Ruth, its going to take time to… for me to be… normal again."

"I know," she said softly. "But, we have the time," she said. "Don't we?"

"Yeah," he said. She kept rubbing the sponge over his skin, clearing up the slight damage she could with a simple sponge.

"I think one of your ribs is broken," she said, looking at the horrible bruising.

"Yeah," he said. "I agree."

"We need to get you seen by a doctor," she said.

"Later," he said. "I don't want to see any more Russians. With the possible exception of the flight attendants back to London." When Ruth looked worried he reached out for her and cradled her face with one hand. "Hey, don't look like that. I'll be fine for a few more hours until we get to London. Trust me."

"Okay," she said. "Harry?" Her eyes were wide and full of fear. "I don't want to lose you."

He knew exactly what she meant. "I might not be… me for a while. But, I don't want you to give up on me."

"Okay," she said again. "I'll be here. Well, not here," she said, looking around the hotel room. "But with you."

"Good." She leaned over the tub and kissed his forehead. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him she loved him, but she held back the urge. She was too afraid that he wouldn't say it back.

* * *

**I love your reviews, so thank you very much. **


	9. Chapter 9

They spent a few hours doing not much. Harry got cleaned up and felt a lot better with a proper shave, his face free of his beard. They lay on the bed not talking and not sleeping either. Harry couldn't sleep because he was still in Moscow, and he wanted desperately to be in London. Or anywhere but here really. Ruth didn't want to sleep while Harry was awake, she was very worried about him.

Soon enough there was a light knock on the door. Harry tensed instantly. It was like his arm had turned into an iron bar. "Don't panic. It'll only be Adam. I told him to give us a knock before the flight." She squeezed his arm gently. "I promise it'll be all right. Adam?" she called.

"Yeah, I've got the car around the front," he said. "Take your time." He walked away and they heard his footsteps receding.

"What time is it?" Harry asked.

"London or Moscow time? It's 4 a.m. here, its about 1 a.m. in London."

"Okay," he said. "Lets go."

* * *

As soon as the flight took off, Harry slept, and slept well. Ruth felt relieved that he was getting some sleep. It just annoyed her that it wasn't a particularly long flight because she knew he needed a few more hours. She dozed, but spent the rest of the flight watching him sleep. He looked relaxed and carefree. She hadn't seen him that way for a long long time. It was good to see.

"Hey," she said softly when they were getting ready to land.

"No. Not moving. I need sleep," he said in such a childish voice that it broke her heart.

"Wake up," she said.

"Can't take it any more. No…"

"Harry, it's Ruth," she said, ignoring the lump in her throat. "It's me and you're safe. Now open your eyes." He did and came to reality with a jerk. He looked wild and terrified and then his hazel eyes settled on hers. "It's okay," she soothed.

"Just tell me I got out of Moscow?"

"Yeah," she said. "I was waking you because we're about to land."

"Don't pinch me," he murmured. "I like this dream." He smiled sweetly at her and she smiled back. Without thinking about it she leaned across the seat and kissed him. He reacted instantly and she smiled as his lips pressed against hers firmly and passionately. "Mm," he murmured against her lips. "I like this."

"Mm," she agreed, kissing him again. He lifted his hand and held her face gently as their mouths became reacquainted with each other. She carefully touched him, his face, the back of his neck, his hair as they pulled closer to each other. She loved his lips, so perfect as they pressed against hers. This felt good, it felt normal in such an exquisite way. His hand roamed over her thigh, pulling her close and she let him. She was simply annoyed that they were landing so she had to have her seat belt on.

"I forgot to tell you something very important," he whispered. "I forgot to tell you I love you."

"That's good," she said, daring to open her eyes to make sure she wasn't dreaming. "I needed to hear that." He raised his eyebrows in silent question. "It doesn't work that way," she said, half laughing. "I love you too." He kept kissing her for several minutes.

And then, all of a sudden it was like a wall had come down. He stopped and looked at her, the smile gone. The moment of carefree joy had vanished. In its place were the memories of the last month. She pulled away, feeling him tense.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"No," he said. "Don't be. I just… There was a moment, and…"

"You were back there," she said quietly. She disentangled herself from him, trying not to touch him more than necessary. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not now," he said firmly. "Can we leave the offer open?"

"Yes," she said firmly. "Whenever you want."

"Good." He forced a smile. "Lets just get home shall we?"

* * *

"Go on then, tell me the worst," Harry said, putting his shirt back on.

"You're going to be fine," the doctor said. "You do have a fractured rib, but you've been damn lucky in the fact that it's already healing, and its aligned properly. You've got a third degree burn on your calf which needs this lotion applied to it several times a day. Otherwise it's just flesh wounds. Bad flesh wounds, but they'll heal without much interference. You're lucky."

"I don't feel lucky," Harry said honestly. He'd only been back in the country for a few hours and he didn't like the secret services doctor either. All he'd done since getting home was get changed and have another shower before being shipped off to the grid. Then he had had a conversation with Adam about operations he might have compromised while under torture, and then visited the Thames House doctor. It wasn't exactly the nicest welcome home.

"Do you want my professional opinion?" the doctor asked. Harry nodded. "I'd like to refer you to a psychologist."

"I can't," Harry said. "If I see a shrink I'll never get away from the taint of it in Thames House. No one will ever respect me or listen to me again. I'll be done, you know that."

"I do," he said. "But I also know that you've been tortured for a solid month. The physical side isn't going to last. The emotional will take a lot longer to heal. You need to talk to someone."

He thought about it for a moment but then shook his head. "I can't," he said.

"There's a psychologist who's already signed the official secrets act. I refer my patients to her when they don't want to talk to someone in house. She's good."

Harry stayed silent as the doctor proffered him a card. "I'll think about it," Harry said. "I need time."

"Okay," the doctor said. "But I'd recommend it. And I'm not signing off on you coming back to work until your rib is fully healed either."

"Fair enough. Thanks." Harry left the doctors with a prescription for painkillers and saw Ruth sitting in the waiting room, reading a trashy magazine.

"I've missed my celebrity gossip," she said, getting up. "Everything went…?"

"Fine," he said. "I want… to go home," he added.

"Okay," she said. She moved to hold his hand, almost out of habit and the desire to comfort him. She regretted that the second she'd attempted it as he was as immovable as steel. She let go of his hand. "Sorry," she said. Harry didn't reply.

* * *

**Thank you for the reviews, and I'm glad everyone was pleased with the reunion. Hope you enjoyed this chapter too.**


	10. Chapter 10

**I have had the week from hell, so I'm sorry its taken me a while to update this. That said, enjoy, and I hope everyone is still liking this, now that Harry's home.**

* * *

The afternoon at their house was more than uncomfortable. The joy of having Harry back in one piece and alive seemed to have worn off a little. Harry wasn't talking and Ruth didn't know what to say. She didn't want to say anything wrong, which meant she didn't say anything at all. The afternoon dragged by and in the evening Ruth finally spoke up.

"Do you…" Harry looked at her. "Would you prefer it if I slept in the spare room? I mean, it won't be an issue, I just want you to be comfortable."

"No," he said after a moments thought. "I'd like us to be together tonight."

She smiled at him. She'd hoped that would be the answer. "Lets go up to bed then." He nodded in agreement.

They went upstairs and settled down in bed, still not saying anything much. Harry turned on his side, facing away from her and closed his eyes. She watched him sadly in the darkness, wishing there were some magic words she could say which would comfort him. She knew there weren't but it didn't stop her hoping.  
She kept watching him until she thought he'd fallen asleep and then closed her own eyes. That was until she felt him start shaking. She opened her eyes and saw his back, rigid with tension in the moonlight. He was silently crying, sobbing his heart out and she knew it. She rested a hand on his tense back. "It's okay," she said. "You can cry, you don't have to hide it."

"Ruth, I can't," he said in gasps.

"You can," she said. "You don't have to hold it all together Harry."

"What am I supposed to do?" he asked. "I'm supposed to be strong for you and I can't."

"Nothing you do would make me think any less of you. You've been through hell. Let me help you." He didn't say a word, but he did turn around to face her, tears staining his face. "Come here." She pulled him close and held him as he cried. It took more than an hour for him to cry out all of his tears, and she held him the entire time, soothing him, stroking his back and his hair until he calmed.

"I think I can sleep now," he said. "I'm sorry."

"No, don't be sorry," she said. "It's not your fault." She sighed. "Just close your eyes." He did and she held him for a few more minutes until he fell asleep. She could tell because his rigid form relaxed and his deep even breathing filled the room. Then she shed a tear or two of her own.

* * *

Ruth awoke in the morning to Harry kissing her neck. It took several seconds before Ruth was aware of what was happening. When she saw, she wrapped her arms around him and tilted his chin up to kiss her lips. "Good morning," she whispered.

"Mm," he said. He pressed his lips to hers and she arched upwards to him. He felt so good. He reached for her waist and ran his hand over her skin going slightly higher. He stroked the side of her breast lightly and kept kissing her. But there came a moment and he just froze. The look on his face told her that he was thinking about the last month. She felt his arm go rigid as he looked at her. The haunted look on his face was still there, but he forced his voice to sound normal. "I'm sorry about last night."

"No," she said. "Don't apologise. You're doing really well." He kissed her lips lightly and then pulled back, lying down. "How are you today?"

"I think I'm okay," he said. "I didn't wake up thinking I was in Russia, so it's a good morning."

"Good," she said. She stroked his hair. "That's good. What do you want to do today?"

"I have no idea," he said.

"Well, I can't have another day like yesterday," she said. "The two of us rattling around in this house in silence, neither of us knowing what to say. I can't do it."

"Maybe you should go to work," he said.

"I'm not doing that either," she said. "Trust me, with the amount of overtime I've done over the past month, I can have the next two weeks off with no problems."

"I want to get back to normal," he said.

"Well you can't go back to work yourself yet," she said.

"I know," he replied. "You don't have to watch over me you know. I'm going to have bad days, and bad hours. But I'm not going to fall apart."

"Okay," she said. She held his arm tightly.

"I would like fish and chips tonight though," he said. "If that can be arranged."

"I'm sure it can," she said. She rolled over, intending to go back to sleep, thinking that Harry might need some time alone. It was still early and she had the day off of work, so she had no reason at all to get up.

"I'm hungry," Harry said. "Do you want anything?"

"Tea please. I might be sleeping when you get back."

"Okay." He got up and threw a shirt over himself and went downstairs. He put two slices of bread in the toaster and nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt something brush against his ankles.

"Oh Fidget," he said, feeling his heart race. He was breathing heavily and it took him a moment to switch the kettle on. He thought about kissing Ruth and sighed. It was wonderful, to have her in his arms again, but whenever he touched her, there came a point where he had to stop. A wall he couldn't get past. Maybe his doctor was right. Maybe he should talk to a psychologist. Or maybe it was too soon to make a decision like that. He sighed and put his head in his hands.

* * *

**Please leave a review if you have a minute. Thank you.**


	11. Chapter 11

Ruth came downstairs about an hour later. Harry had never returned and she'd drifted into a pleasant doze. Looking at Harry though, she suddenly felt guilty for sleeping in. How selfish of her. His head was in his hands and he was as still as a statue.

"I know you're there," he said, voice muffled by his palms. "I heard your footsteps."

"You never came back to bed," she said quietly. She walked over to him and after a moments hesitation put her hand on his shoulder. "Harry?"

"Sorry," he said. "I made you tea, but it'll be cold by now."

"The tea doesn't matter," she said quietly. "Do you want to talk to me?"

"No," he said so quickly that she was a little hurt, in spite of herself. "I don't _want_ to talk about it," he said, emphasising the word want. "I never want to have to think about it ever again, but I am." He sighed. "It's always going to be there."

"Yes," she agreed. "It'll get easier over time though."

"Will it?" he asked.

"Yes," she said firmly. "I think you need to talk."

"I can't tell you," he said. "I can't tell you the things that were done to me, because… I don't want you to know them. I don't want those things to be the first thing you think of when you see me. I don't want it to be at the back of your mind when we're together. I want it to be… as we were. Before." She sighed lightly and pulled up a chair so she could sit in front of him.

"I'm not telling you to talk to me. I'm telling you, talk to someone," she said. "I'd love to be that person for you, but if I can't… If you feel unable to talk to me, I understand."

He finally removed his hands from his face and looked at her, eyes watering. "It isn't that I don't love you," he said. "It's… I don't want you to know those horrible things."

"I understand," she said. It hurt her, but she did understand. "I found a card for a psychologist in your jacket. I wasn't snooping," she added. "I just… found it. Maybe you should see her."

"Does it bother you that it's a woman I'd be speaking to?"

The thought hadn't even occurred to Ruth and she shook her head. "No," she said. She smiled at the thought that that was something he'd worried about. "I take it she's cleared?"

"Yeah," Harry replied. "Very much cleared, and she's signed the Official Secrets Act several times over. That's why she was recommended."

"I know perfectly well you'll need a clean bill of health before returning to work," she said. "That probably includes your mental state."

"Yeah, for all the good that will do me."

Ruth felt two tears brim up and she let them roll down her cheeks. "I think you should talk to her. I think… it might help you." She held his hands. "And that's all I want."

"Yeah," he said. "I'll make an appointment."

"Good," Ruth said. She squeezed his hand tightly and then let go. "Have you had your painkillers this morning?" she asked, ever practical. He shook his head, feeling the pain in his chest around his rib, the uncomfortable tightness when he breathed. Ruth gave him a glass of water and his tablets."

"Take them," she said kindly.

* * *

Harry was amazed that Dr Leavy could fit him in the same day. Harry absently wondered how much the service was paying her to keep empty slots so if a spy needed a shrink they could be fitted in at a moments notice. Probably an awful lot. Harry got into his car and sat in the drivers seat for a moment before switching the engine on. He hadn't been in his car in a month. There was a staleness in the air which surprised him, so he rolled the window down. He kept his car relatively tidy, but there was a packet of half eaten chocolate buttons on the dashboard. They'd melted into a blob and he sighed. He put the key in the ignition and drove.

* * *

"Harry Pearce?" He followed the doctor into her private room, looking around at the surprisingly casual room. There were several chairs, a desk and a sofa there. "Do you start judging me from where I chose to sit?"

"No," she said. "I don't judge, I listen."

"Surely judgement comes into your job," Harry said, sitting on the chair in front of the desk. "After all don't you say when agents are mentally fit?"

"I do," she said. "Is that what you want? To go back to work?"

Harry thought about it. "I do, eventually. I don't feel ready yet."

"Why not?"

"I feel a bit… unstable," he admitted.

"What happened?"

"You don't know?"

"No," she said. "All I know if your name and the fact you work for MI5. High up as well. Do you want to tell me?"

"I was kidnapped by Russians." Harry stopped, not wanting to say more until he had to.

"For how long?"

"Twenty nine days," Harry said. "Not really a long time in the grand scheme of things, but it was long enough."

"Was there torture?"

"A lot of it," Harry said, looking down.

"You don't want to be here?"

"I'm not sure it's a good idea," Harry admitted. "But Ruth thinks it is."

"Ruth is?"

"My wife," he said. "She wants me to talk to someone and I don't want to talk to her."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want her to know everything," he said. "I'm frightened."

"Of the Russians?"

"No," he said instantly. "I'll never be held by them again. I know that. I'm scared that if Ruth knew everything that they did to me, she'd be disgusted by me. That, or leave me. I can't handle either of those options."

"You don't know she'd do that."

"No I don't," he said. "But the possibility is too much. I won't risk it."

"Which is why you're here?"

"Which is why I'm here," Harry agreed.

* * *

When Harry got home it took all of Ruth's self control not to ask how it had gone. Instead she poured eggs into the frying pan, making scrambled eggs for them both. "Are you hungry?" she asked.

He walked behind her and kissed her cheek gently. "Yes," he said. "Thanks." She smiled at the kiss, feeling a warm glow inside her at the contact.  
"I wasn't really thinking of cooking so I thought eggs would be easy," she said.

"Eggs are fine," he said as she put two slices of bread down in the toaster. They ate in a relatively comfortable silence. When their plates were clean Harry cleared the table and started to wash the dishes and the scrambled egg pan.

"You don't have to do that," she said.

"No," he replied. "It's nice to do something… normal."

"Okay," she said. She placed a hand on his back and felt him tense suddenly. "I'm going to bed," she said quietly. "Come up when you're ready." She sensed he wanted to be alone, so even though it was early, she excused herself and went upstairs.

She washed her face, brushed her teeth and waited for Harry to join her. It only took about twenty minutes, and he had two mugs of tea in his hand as an offering. He smiled slightly as she took hers. "Thank you."

He smiled as sat on the bed, beginning to undress. "Are you tired?" she asked as he removed his belt.

"Exhausted," he said, smiling. "I'm feel knackered, even though I haven't done much today."

"Then sleep." And he did.

* * *

**Thank you so much for the reviews so far. More when it's written.**


	12. Chapter 12

Ruth jerked awake violently and couldn't breathe. Harry's hands were clamped over her throat. He was looming above her, eyes closed, but his face was set in determination. She could only get the barest gasp of air into her lungs, and shouting at Harry to stop was impossible. So she kicked him. He squeezed her neck hard and black spots started appearing in her vision. She hit him, thrashing, trying to get him off of her.

It didn't wake him. Instead he released her throat and drew his fist back to hit her. "Harry!" she screamed. He froze, opening his eyes and breathing heavily. He looked at her, and then at his clenched fist, still in the air above her. He seemed to put the pieces together very quickly and horror started to appear on his face as Ruth gasped for air, her lungs finally taking oxygen to the rest of her body. He relaxed his fist and shook his head.

"Christ, I'm so sorry," he whispered, voice hoarse. "I… oh God. Have I hurt you?"

"No," she lied, even though her throat felt painful, her vocal cords felt bruised and she knew her skin would be red. Probably bruised come the morning. That wasn't going to help matters, she thought realistically. Harry rolled away from her to turn the bedside lamp on. When the room was filled with a soft glow, he turned back to her. His eyes traced over her figure, slowing when he saw the red impressions of his fingers left on her skin.

"Harry…" she started.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'll sleep in the spare room."

"No, wait," she said, but he'd already got up and left. Ruth sighed as he closed the bedroom door behind him. She closed her eyes as a rush of sadness flowed over her. She knew he was having a nightmare, and he hadn't intended to do it, but her skin hurt all the same. And the look on his face when he'd realised what he was doing broke her heart.

She sighed again, but turned over and closed her eyes. She knew perfectly well there would be no talking to him tonight.

* * *

Ruth awoke early. She looked at the clock and saw it was five to six in the morning. Maybe Harry wouldn't be awake yet. Suddenly Ruth heard the whistling of the kettle, and she reassessed his state of sleep. She quickly dressed, wondering what to do about the red marks on her neck. They were darker this morning and they were sure to be bruises before too long. She decided not to cover them up, because that seemed to just be drawing attention to them. Instead she just dressed as she would normally. Then she hurried downstairs.

Harry was drinking his tea, looking out of the window with his back to her. "I'm leaving," he said firmly, and she could hear the stubbornness in his voice.

"I wish you wouldn't," she said quietly and with dignity. "But I'm not going to force you to stay here. Where will you go?"

"I'm going to Catherine's," he said. "She's in Israel at the moment, so I'll stay there for a few days."

"Please don't go," she whispered. He turned to her for the first time. His eyes scanned her face and then moved lower to her neck. She didn't move, just waited.

"I could have killed you last night," he said quietly.

"You were having a nightmare," she reasoned.

"If I hadn't woken up…"

"Well you did," she said. "Look, sleep in the spare room if it would make you feel better." To be perfectly honest, it would make _her_ feel better. Only until the nightmares stopped, not permanently but just for the time being.

"I never want to hurt you," he said. "I can't believe I did that."

"What were you dreaming of?"

"Moscow," he said. "They were…" he breathed heavily for a few moments. "I was in a room and there were three Russians. They didn't even ask me anything. They told me you didn't care. You weren't trying to get me back and I'd be left here to rot."

Ruth knew this was memory, not just the dream now. "Did you believe them?" she asked softly.

"Of course I didn't," he said, a slight smile on his face. "But hearing the same thing which is your deepest fear wears on you a bit. In my darkest moments I did believe it." He sighed, deeply and from the heart. "I was beaten, and hit until everywhere hurt. Every muscle I had was aching and painful. And I snapped. I lashed out and I hit everyone within reach. I kept on going until I was physically restrained by… I don't know how many Russians. I was injected with something and the room faded away. When I woke up the room was freezing. I was lying on the floor, starving, thirsty and violently shivering. Maybe for hours. And then it started all over again." Harry took a deep steadying breath. "That was what I dreamed of. And then I woke up and I was about to hit you. I could have strangled you Ruth. And I'm horrified with myself. So I'm going to Catherine's."

"Okay," she said quietly. "You don't have to leave," she added. "And if you do leave, you can come home whenever you want to."

He sighed, and pulled her into his arms. "I can't be someone who hurts you." He squeezed her and she felt herself almost melting into his arms. It stopped far too soon and he let her go.

"I'm not giving up on you," she said. "Don't give up on yourself."

He shook his head and kissed her lips incredibly softly. "I do love you, you know?"

"Mm," she said. "I know. I don't want you to leave, but I'm not going to beg you to stay."

"I'll call," he promised, his voice soft. She nodded and closed her eyes as Harry left, the door closing quietly behind him. Ruth felt the tears roll down her face in the silence of a lonely house.

* * *

**Thank you for all the wonderful reviews, they really make this worth while.**


	13. Chapter 13

"Ruth, what are you doing here?" Adam asked as Ruth sat behind her desk.

"Working," she said. "Judging by the amount of files on my desk, you need me."

"Yeah," he said. "But… Harry. I thought you'd take a few more days at least."

"Yes, well… things change."

"What happened?" Adam asked.

"I can't talk about it. Do you have something that needs translating? I'd like to distract myself."

"Sure," Adam said. He rifled through the files and found a pile of Chinese transcripts that weren't urgent but did need careful interpretation. "You speak Chinese right?"

"Not Cantonese," she said. "Mandarin's fine," she added, reading the first page. "Thanks Adam." He nodded and walked away, leaving Ruth to become absorbed in her translation.

* * *

Harry didn't go to Catherine's flat. He went to St James's park and wandered around the green space in the middle of London. He enjoyed the fresh air, but he was highly distracted by what he'd done over night. He'd hurt Ruth. More than that, he could have killed her. Had her screaming and kicking not woken him, he probably would have. Jesus Christ, he could have woken up next to her corpse. He could have killed the woman he loved with all his heart. All because of a nightmare.

Well, the solution was obvious. He clearly couldn't sleep with Ruth until the nightmares had stopped. He dreaded to think how long that would take, but he wouldn't risk her, and he refused to be put in a position where he might hurt her. He couldn't feel worse. Even when he'd been tortured, he'd never felt like this.

After several minutes of depressive mulling he took his phone out of his pocket and called Catherine. The call would be extortionate, but he wanted to talk to her. Just to hear her voice. Unfortunately her phone went through to her voicemail. Harry sighed, waiting for the beep.

"Hi Catherine," he said, trying to sound cheerful. "I was just calling to say… well, hi really. I hope you're well. I… haven't heard from you in a while, so send me an email or call me. Just to let me know you're okay. I worry about you sweetheart. Okay. Bye." He put the phone down and collapsed on a nearby bench. The sun suddenly went behind a cloud and he looked up. The sky was a dark foreboding grey, and it was going to rain. But he didn't move. Rain matched his mood.

* * *

At lunch, Ruth hurried up to the roof. She needed air, and to be perfectly honest, she needed to cry. As she opened the door, she both heard and saw the rain sheeting down. She hesitated for only a second before going outside, wrapping her coat around her tightly. She was soaked through in seconds but she didn't care. She leaned against the wall, looking over the grey city and she cried.  
She was only alone for a couple of minutes though. The door banged shut, announcing someone else. She didn't even try to stop crying.

"You shouldn't be here," Jo said quietly. "You should be at home. Not at work."

"There's nothing at home for me," she said, sniffing quietly. "Harry's not there."

"Where is he?"

"He says he's staying at his daughters flat for a few days."

"What happened?" Jo asked gently. "I mean, tell me to mind my own business if you like, but you're up here in the pouring rain crying."

Ruth smiled weakly. "Harry had a nightmare last night," she said brushing her wet hair out of her face. "And he… basically attacked me in his sleep."

"Was it bad?" Jo asked calmly.

"Yeah," Ruth said. "He nearly strangled me." Ruth rolled down her turtle neck jumper until the now purplish finger marks were visible. "When he woke up, he said he was leaving. I haven't seen him since."

"Are you frightened of him?"

"No," she said. "Although his nightmares do scare me." She sighed. "I want him to open up to me. I want my Harry back." She sobbed quietly as Jo wrapped her arms around her. "He's so distant, and I… I miss him."

"He needs time," Jo said. "It'll be all right." Ruth sighed heavily, but didn't let Jo go. It felt good to be comforted.

* * *

Ruth got home late. She'd stayed to complete the translations, because she didn't really want to go back to her empty house. She walked up her street, keys in hand when she saw Harry, sitting on her doorstep. It had only just stopped raining and he was soaked through. They both were. He saw her and stood up, a forced smile on his face. "Why are you here?"

"I left my key inside," he said. "I didn't want to break in."

"That doesn't answer my question Harry," she said. "Why are you here?"

"I shouldn't have stormed out this morning," he said. "Running away isn't going to solve anything."

"No, it's not," Ruth said. Her lips twitched into a smile. "What made you come back?"

"Catherine called me and told me if I upset you or pushed you away, I deserved to be alone for the rest of my life."

"Smart girl," Ruth said. Harry smiled. "Are you scared of me?" he asked.

"No."

"Now answer honestly."

Ruth sighed. "Am I scared of you? No, I'm not. I've never been frightened of you, because I know you'd never willingly hurt me. Am I scared of your nightmares? Yes."

"Okay," he said quietly. "We can deal with that can't we?" he said.

"Yes," she said. "I'd like you to sleep in the spare room. I think we'll both sleep better," she said practically.

"Yes," Harry said. "I don't want to hurt you. I'm so sorry."

Ruth looked up at the sky as a rumble of thunder broke the distant noise of the city. It was going to rain again. "I want you here," she said. "I'm not going to say it didn't hurt or shock me, but I know its because of Russia."

"Yes," he said. "I don't like it either. But yes, Moscow's the reason." He sighed deeply. "I don't know why I'm reacting like this. It's like I've forgotten how to be… normal."

"I know you hate this word, but you're traumatised," she said. Harry scowled when she said that and she laughed. "I love you," she added.

"Good," he said, with clear relief. She laughed again, the sound dying away as Harry pressed his lips to hers, soft and gently. Almost wary, like she wouldn't welcome the embrace. She flicked her tongue against his lips and he opened his mouth. It was such a deep bone shaking kiss that she barely even noticed when the rain came down. His hands wrapped around her, slipping under her coat (which had been open) and resting on the small of her back. One of her hands slid up to his neck and higher, fingers tangling in his now wet hair. Whatever their problems, life seemed easier and much more pleasant when Harry was kissing her. And this was a good kiss. A kiss with no memory of Moscow present. Their tongues danced together, in a heavenly kiss, and Ruth sighed as his fingertips pushed her blouse up, caressing her bare back. God his touch felt good.

As her fingers touched his neck, slipping underneath his shirt, he moaned into her mouth. A simple honest sound of desire. Ruth pulled back, in spite of the passion racing through her system. She knew perfectly well it was too soon for Harry, and that she shouldn't rush it.

"We should probably stop giving our neighbours a show, she said.

"Mm," he agreed. Ruth moved around him, unlocking the door. Harry typed in the security code as she went into the kitchen, the feel of Harry's touch still on her lips.

* * *

**More soon. Thank you very much for the reviews, they've been really great for me to read. **


	14. Chapter 14

Ruth rolled over, uncomfortable in her lonely bed. She knew perfectly well that her and Harry were sharing a bedroom wall, but she still felt lonely without him. The entire time he'd been in Moscow, she hadn't felt like this. Whenever someone on the grid managed to persuade her to go home to get some sleep, she'd been so exhausted that she barely had time to feel the ache of Harry's loss. Now she had both time and energy, and she didn't like it one bit. Of course, her neck was still throbbing and she didn't like the idea of a nightmare ridden Harry next to her either. Which left her stuck.

As if reading her mind, she heard a gentle tap on the wall. She listened intently and then smiled. Harry was tapping Morse code on the wall. He was telling her that he loved her.

"I love you too," she called, loud enough for him to hear.

"Goodnight," he called back. Once she'd heard his voice, calm and controlled, it was somewhat easier to close her eyes and let go of the days tension.

* * *

Harry felt the silence in the room start to become oppressive. He didn't usually feel that way about silence, it was more often comforting than threatening, but his conscience was weighing heavily on him. It made the silence feel awkward and uncomfortable. The lack of conversation was beginning to bother him, so he broke it.

"I could have killed my wife."

Doctor Leavy's eyebrows raised. She was clearly surprised and shocked, but she didn't want to show it. If Harry hadn't spent a great deal of his career watching people, he wouldn't have noticed it. "Not on purpose," he added. "It was an accident."

"Why don't you tell me what happened," Dr Leavy said. Harry nodded and kept the story to the bare minimum.

"I had a nightmare," he said. "When I woke, one of my hands was tight around her neck, the other clenched in a fist about to punch her."

"So you didn't… suddenly snap at her?"

"Maybe I did," he said. "But I wasn't conscious for it. I don't know. I feel horrified and disgusted with myself."

"How did Ruth react?"

"Amazingly calmly," Harry said. "But I left. I hate that I was the one to hurt her. I want to be the one who protects her. Not attack her in the middle of the night."

"Okay," Dr Leavy said. She stayed silent, and Harry knew he was meant to fill it.

"I went back though. I need to be with her and around her. Maybe it's selfish but I can't cut myself off from her. I insisted that I sleep in the spare room though. I can't hurt her again. I won't."

"Well that's good," she said.

"What is? That I nearly strangled her?" Harry asked sarcastically. He found it uncomfortable and unpleasant to talk about what he'd done to her. And what could have possibly happened, had he not woken up.

"It's good that you're trying to solve the problem," Dr Leavy said calmly. "Good that you're facing it, not running away. And, if I'm being perfectly honest, it's good that you aren't hurting Ruth consciously."

"Well yes," Harry admitted. "I suppose that is good."

* * *

Harry came home to an empty house, and felt the hallway almost ringing with the silence. There came a small thump from upstairs and he knew it would be the cat. Sure enough, Fidget darted downstairs, wanting some attention. Harry was not and never would be a cat lover. Ruth said she had to live with a cat to feel at home, so he put up with Fidget. But right now, he was very glad to have another presence in the house. The fact that it was feline didn't really matter.

Ruth was at work. He'd insisted, telling her that he couldn't be looked after all day, every day. The speed with which she agreed told him that she missed her work too. He preferred to think of it as that, rather than the darker thought that she was taking the opportunity to get away from him, mainly because she didn't know what to say. Both reasons were probably true, he thought grimly.

His stomach growled while he was thinking, which was the first indication that he was hungry. Harry hadn't even realised it. When he was imprisoned, he'd learnt that being hungry didn't mean you would receive food. He'd learnt to ignore the hunger pangs. Now, he had the freedom to eat, and it took him a minute or two to fully comprehend that fact. Glancing at his watch he thought Ruth might be an hour more at work. He decided he'd cook for her. After all, he didn't fancy watching some mindless television, and it would be nice to do something for her.

"Right then," he said to the cat. "What shall we cook?"

* * *

Ruth unlocked the door, feeling the pleasant Autumnal chill on her face before going inside. When she did, a lovely scent drifted past her. She walked into the kitchen in surprise. Harry had cooked for her once, usually preferring to take her out to a nice restaurant for dinner.

"Harry?"

"Yeah, I'm in here," he called back as she poked her head around the kitchen door.

"What are you cooking?"

"Nothing fancy," he said with a shrug. "Chicken tikka masala and rice. There's wine," he added, nodding at the bottle on the kitchen side. Ruth poured herself a glass, for the first time in weeks feeling like she was being taken care of. It was a very good feeling. "How was work?"

"Good," she said, taking a sip and sitting at the table. "I do enjoy feeling useful." Harry nodded. "Do you want to go back?" she asked carefully.

"Yes," he said. "But I know perfectly well that I'm not ready yet." He sighed. "I'm not up for the necessary political confrontations of my job." Harry started plating up their meals and Ruth smiled at the very domestic scene in front of her. No one who saw Sir Harry Pearce, head of section D would be able to imagine this. Here he wasn't a spy, captured or otherwise, he wasn't required to be a politician, to manage an entire MI5 section or required to be anything at all. Here, at home with her, he could just... be. And that was her favourite Harry to be around.

"If it's terrible, do me a favour and lie," he said, sitting opposite her.

"Okay," she said, smiling as she picked up her fork. "Thank you." He smiled back. "This is nice."

"I'm…" he swallowed uncomfortably. "Trying to… get back to normal."

"Then where's your whisky?" she asked.

"Actually I haven't had a decent Scotch in six weeks," he said. "After dinner. Now eat." She did. And it was a wonderful meal.

* * *

About an hour later, they were both curled up on the sofa together, Harry nursing a whisky, Ruth curled into his shoulder. The TV was on, but the volume low so they could just enjoy each others company. The painful memories of Harry's hands around her neck were fading while they were in each others arms. With his free hand Harry stroked her hair, and for the first time Ruth felt the need to be careful with him vanish. This was normal and good.

"I love you," he said. She turned to look at him and smiled.

"It's so good to hear you say that," she said. "I love you too." She leaned up and kissed him.

"Mm," he whispered. "Oh, that's nice," he whispered against his lips.

"Mm," she agreed, concentrating on the exquisite pleasure of their tongues tangling together. Harry put his whisky down and used both hands to pull her body close to his. Her soft and warm body felt so good against his chest. It was just a shame there was clothes in the way.

"Ruth?"

"What?" she asked breathlessly, pulling her lips away from his with irritation.

"God, I want you," he said quickly. "I'm just…"

"You don't know if…"

"Yeah," he said shortly. "I don't want it to be… rushed or awkward."

She smiled a devastatingly beautiful smile. "Harry, whatever speed you want," she said. "And if we have to stop, that's fine."

"You're wonderful," he murmured. She smiled into another deep kiss as his hands wound around her waist. Right now, there was nowhere else in the world she'd rather be.

* * *

**More soon. I'm not exactly sure where this story is going, so it might be a few days before I update. Thank you for the review so far.**


	15. Chapter 15

Ruth drew back out of their perfect kiss and looked at him. She was silently asking permission, as her hands went to the collar of his shirt. He nodded and she smiled, slowly unbuttoning it. He watched the concentration in her beautiful blue eyes as her hands skimmed the planes of his chest. She pushed the fabric apart so he was bare from neck to waist, the shirt hanging on his arms. The cuts and bruises were healing now, but there was still enough evidence of the damage.

He covered her hand with his own, holding it to his heart. "It doesn't… hurt so much anymore."

"How's your rib?"

"Not too bad," he said as her fingers went gently down his chest, feeling the injury. "And at this moment in time it doesn't hurt at all." She smiled, letting her hand go lower over his stomach, following the path of soft almost invisible hair. Her hand stopped when she reached his belt and she looked at him.

"First things first," he said. He let his fingers trail down the V of her blouse and then slowly unbuttoned it. Ruth smiled as he touched her, very gently. Almost hesitantly. Ruth pulled away, but only so she could throw her blouse to the floor. Harry's hands skimmed over her skin, her stomach, her ribs and higher. He cupped her breasts, feeling the warmth of her flesh through her bra.  
After a moment of indecision, she reached behind her and removed her bra. Harry smiled and pulled her close, his hands cradling her skin gently.

"You know I dreamed of your breasts," he said, cradling both of them in his hands. "When I was in Moscow, I had highly detailed dreams of you, and these in particular." He squeezed gently, making his point and she laughed lightly. "I said to myself, if I ever had you in my arms again, I wouldn't waste the opportunity." He kissed her softly. "I dreamed of the little moans you make, when I stroke you here…" he touched the undersides of her breasts feather lightly and she couldn't help her moan of desire. She was sensitive there, and he knew it. She pressed against him, kissing him deeply as their chests sparked against each other.

"I like this," he whispered. She pushed her hips towards his and felt his hardness between her thighs. She smiled and kissed him again, her hands going to his belt buckle. She looked up at him and he shook his head very slightly. She instantly stopped.

"No," he said. "I mean… I want to make love to you. Desperately. But I need more space then our sofa can give us."

"Oh," she said, smiling slightly. "So we need a bed." He nodded, eyes sparkling. She laughed and kissed his neck gently. His hands found her bum and he squeezed. Ruth moaned loudly, rocking her hips towards him.

"Upstairs now," he demanded. She nodded eagerly and hurried to the bedroom, Harry following her.

* * *

"Ruth?"

"Mm?" she asked lazily, stretching her sated and satisfied body.

"Was that… still as good as it used to be? For you, I mean."

She rolled onto her side, a broad smile on her face. "Yes," she said. "You haven't lost your magic touch Harry. That was… so good." Her brain was working sluggishly, so it took a moment or two for her to follow the thought through. "Why? Did you not enjoy it?"

"Oh I did," he said. "But… its been a while." The slight internal ache of pleasure she felt inside was testament to that. "I wanted to make sure that you… enjoyed it as much as I did."

"Stop worrying," she said. She leaned over him and kissed him lightly. "It was…" she smiled with pleasure. "Very, very good," she finished.

Harry sighed happily. "I'm going to have to go," he said.

"Go where?"

"To sleep next door," he said darkly. "As good as it was, and however much I want to, I can't sleep next to you."

The tone of his voice made it clear that arguing was pointless. "Okay," she said.

"I want a kiss before you go." He rolled closer to her and infused his kiss with so much love and tenderness that she felt her heart skip several beats.

"I'll see you in the morning," he said with finality.

"Okay." Ruth watched him leave, feeling the sudden emptiness of the bed with a hollow heart. She knew he'd sleep away from her, even when they were undressing each other, but it still hurt a little bit that he'd left her so quickly. It made her feel slightly used, even though she knew it wasn't true. She knew he was doing it because he didn't want to hurt her, physically. He didn't know that emotionally, him pulling away from her was just as painful.

* * *

Harry awoke in the morning feeling happy, at peace and very satisfied. It had been a long, long time since he'd felt so carefree. He knew, without even asking Ruth that he hadn't been calling or shouting out in his sleep. Not last night. He took a quick shower, then dressed before going downstairs. He could smell breakfast before he even went into the kitchen. Bacon and scrambled eggs. Even as his stomach rumbled, his heart dropped. Ruth only cooked breakfast for an anniversary, a birthday or if she was upset. She used the cooking to distract herself from her misery. Judging by the rigid posture as she flipped the bacon over, she was upset.

"What's wrong?" he asked, making them both some tea.

"Why would you think something was wrong?" she asked.

"Because you're cooking bacon," he said simply. "I've been married to you for nearly three years. I know what bacon for breakfast means."

She sighed and her shoulders slumped, but she didn't face him. "I'm not angry," she said. "I just… yes, I'm upset."

"Why?"

"Because you left me last night," she said. "After we had sex, you just left."

"You know why I did that," he said, very gently as he added sugar to her tea.

"I know," she said. "It didn't make me feel better. Apparently my rational side vanishes after sex." She turned finally, and smiled weakly at him. "I know why you did it, but I felt… used and lonely."

"Ruth," he said quietly. "I never meant to make you feel that way."

"I know," she said simply, pouring scrambled eggs onto their plates. "But I don't want that again. So if we have sex, you sleep next to me."

"Ruth…"

"I mean it," she said firmly. "I don't want to feel like this again."

Harry pressed the mug of tea into her hands and she took a sip. She smiled at the sweetness, and her eyes grew warm for a moment. "It might take a while," he said. "Until I feel… able to sleep next to you without… I don't want to hurt you again."

"I know," she said, the smile much more genuine than it had been when he'd walked into the kitchen. "I can wait."

* * *

**Thanks to TheChicaChic who gave this a read through and some suggestions on where to go next. Thanks for the reviews so far, and I hope you enjoyed this update.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Thank you for the reviews, they really mean a lot to me.**

* * *

A few days later Harry visited Dr Leavy again.

"I want to go back to work," he said.

"Why?"

"Because its what I do," he said. "I'm tired of rattling around the house, and I've spent my entire life protecting and serving this country. What am I going to do, sit and hope that the torture and Moscow will just fade from my mind? It's not going to. Not that way anyway. Should I watch reruns of Jeremy Kyle until I'm bored out of my mind?"

"I'm not entirely sure it's the best thing for you," Doctor Leavy said. "It's a high pressured environment. It brings its own set of stresses and worries. If you aren't a hundred percent, I can't advise it."

"I'm not going to be a hundred percent while sitting at home, "_recuperating_"," he said, adding enough disdain on the last word. "MI5 is what I do and what I know. I'll never recover, if half of who I am is closed off to me."

"What does Ruth think?"

"I haven't asked her opinion," he said honestly. "I will, but I was hoping you'd sign off on it first."

"How are things with Ruth?"

"Good," he said. "She's happier, I think." Harry breathed in deeply, remembering her sweet smile the night before when they'd had Chinese. Her blue eyes sparkling at him, and he knew it was true. She was happier. "I slept with her," he said, shocking himself. He hadn't planned to tell his psychologist that, in fact, he'd consciously thought that it would be something he wouldn't mention. It was private, and it was no ones business except for his and Ruth's. So why he'd said it, he had no idea.

"What happened?" the doctor asked neutrally. He recognised that he was being asked the question in a way which he could share as much or as little as he wanted to. He took a long time before answering.

"Nothing unusual," he said, guardedly. "It was… well, to be honest it was as it always is with Ruth. Normal. But normality in the best way." There was another extended silence but Harry wasn't going into more detail. "I won't discuss my sex life with you. It's not fair on Ruth, and I won't do it."

"Okay, lets move on," Doctor Leavy said. "How are other aspects of your life?"

"You mean how am I coping with the after effects of my torture?" Harry said, cutting to the chase. "My rib doesn't hurt much anymore. The cuts and bruises are healing and I want to get back to work."

The doctor smiled at this. "I can sign off on you going back part time. No more than three days a week though, and I still think you should have appointments with me. Otherwise I won't sign that form."

"Bribing me?"

"Bargaining," she said. "You know how this works. Unfortunately the psychologists get the final say on whether an agent is fit for work. I don't like having the responsibility, but I have to."

"Fine," Harry said. If he were being perfectly honest, he wasn't entirely sure he was ready to stop seeing his psychologist either, but he wasn't going to volunteer that information.

"Okay, I'll clear you," she said. "Part time, and don't overdo it."

"Thanks," he said, a slight smile on his face.

* * *

"I'm coming back to work," Harry said later that night.

Ruth looked up over her plate, eyes wide. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," he said. "Just part time, because my shrink says so, but I want to be useful again."

She smiled at him. "I'm not going to argue with you," she said. "You might want to dust your office though."

"Why?"

"Adam hasn't been in there, and I had the cleaning company fired."

"Why?"

"Because apparently other countries have been infiltrating the cleaning company, and using it as a way to get information on MI5."

"Seriously?"

"Two Chinese, one Russian and a CIA asset."

"Bloody hell." Harry took a sip of whisky. "How did we miss that?"

"Because Malcolm is scrupulous about how we get rid of our shredding, and locking the computers, the files and all spare paperwork."

"Right," Harry said. "Anything serious gone missing?"

"No," Ruth said. "It's fine. There's just a layer of dust in your office, because I haven't had them replaced yet. Or vetted properly either."

"Do you mind?" he asked. "Me going back to work?"

"Of course I don't," she said, a small smile on her face. "As long as you feel capable, I mean."

"Capable?" he asked.

"You know what I mean," she said. "You've been through a lot, and I don't want you pushing it."

"I know," he said softly.

"And why would I mind? It was where we met and fell in love. How could I mind, having you back there?"

He reached across the table and held her hand tightly. Their fingers entwined in the silence and he smiled at her. "I love you," he said.

"I know." She let go of his hand, but only so she could move around the kitchen table, and sit next to him. She rested her head on his shoulder and put one hand lightly on his hip. He kissed the top of her head and held her close. The smell of lavender from her shampoo was in the air and he breathed in deeply.

"You smell good," he said simply. He felt her smile into his chest, the fabric of his shirt rumpling slightly under her movement.

"So when are you coming back to the grid?"

"Part time," he said. "Tomorrow."

"Adam'll be pleased," she said.

"Why?"

"Well, I think he enjoyed being in charge for a while, but the novelty has worn off. He'd quite like to be taking orders from someone else."

"What about you?" he asked. "Do you like taking orders from me? Or him?"

"I don't take orders from anyone. At work, I do my job, its that simple," she said. "Although, I do find your voice rather sexy at times. When you're telling people what to do, blundering around in charge."

"Oh do you?" She smiled at him, happily.

"Yes," she said. He dipped his head and kissed her thoroughly. She deepened the kiss and pressed her body into his. They both knew where this was going, very quickly. So she pulled back, stiffening in his arms.

"No, don't," he said. "I'll sleep next to you tonight."

"Are you sure?" she asked quietly.

"As long as you're not frightened of me."

"No Harry, I'm not." She kissed him again, her fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt, slowly, her fingers caressing his skin. "Upstairs?"

"Upstairs," he said firmly. She laughed.

* * *

**More soon, probably at the weekend. And the next chapter will be M rated.**


	17. M rated

**Just a reminder that the first part of this chapter is M rated.**

* * *

Ruth was in that wonderful dreamy space, in between sleeping and waking when she felt Harry stroke her waist. She stretched under the sheets as his hands kept wandering. He kissed her gently and slowly worked down her body. Ruth felt like she was in heaven as his lips kissed her neck, her breasts, slowly moving lower. He sucked her nipple and she moaned. "Oh Harry…"

"Morning," he murmured through a full mouth.

"Mm, morning," she agreed, her hands falling on his back gently. She let her hand go through his hair as he kissed her stomach and mover lower. With a smile, she opened her legs as he started licking and tasting her. "Oh God," she cried out. He laughed, which, with his mouth so sensitively on her, made her shiver with pleasure. Her hands curled into the bed sheets tightly, as he softly licked her folds, sending darts of pleasure shooting through her. All she could feel were the clean sheets on her naked skin, and his tongue on her centre. Her brain hadn't yet started thinking, so all she could do was feel. Without any thought at all. It was so satisfying.

He sucked her clitoris hard and she crashed into a powerful orgasm, moaning and writhing as Harry watched with satisfaction. He loved doing this to her. He stroked her body as he moved upwards, to kiss her lips. She responded slowly and languidly, the kiss deep. She could taste herself on him, and she wrapped her legs around him in reflex. He pushed inside her hard, and for the first time that morning, she opened her eyes. His hazel ones were looming above her smiling.

"That feels good," she said simply. He leaned in and kissed her neck, then sucked on her pulse point hard. She moaned and pushed her hips upwards, making him go deeper inside her. He pulled out of her very slowly, making her groan with the friction. She dug her fingers into his bum, trying to pull him closer.

"Oh no," he murmured. "Last night was fast. This morning will happen... extremely slowly." He was as good as his word. He pushed back inside her so slowly, and with such self control that Ruth found herself whimpering for more stimulation. She reached up and bit his earlobe. "Faster, please…" she begged. He smiled but shook his head. He carried on setting a slow and torturous pace, which had her moaning incomprehensibly. They were both panting and covered in sweat by the time Harry felt his climax approaching. He sucked on her nipple for a few seconds before plunging into her, hard and fast.

"Oh Christ…" she gasped. Harry reached down and pressed his thumb against her clitoris. She spasmed in ecstasy, her orgasm tearing through her, making her entire body tense, her fingernails cutting into his shoulders, her toes curling with pleasure. "Oh Harry… God!" He pushed into her once more and groaned as he climaxed. She felt herself respond to his orgasm, her body writhing with the echo of his passion as she moaned softly.

He kissed her lazily, before pulling away from her. He stroked her hair and smiled. "That was… um… yeah," she said. Harry laughed at her inability to speak. He stroked her side, from waist to breast and she shivered, feeling so sensitive that his touch almost burned. She curled up against him and kissed his collarbone.

"You look tired," she said, seeing slight shadows under his eyes. "You didn't sleep well did you?"

"I slept okay," he said, avoiding the question. She let it drop. "You're beautiful in the mornings you know," he said. She raised her eyebrows. "Well, obviously you're beautiful all the time, I meant that…I um… right." She laughed into his chest. "You're beautiful always," he said, his voice a low purr. "I just meant that… when you're rumpled and sleeping next to me you're at your most beautiful."

"Thank you," she said. "Now to break the moment, I need a shower. As much as I love you and as much as I thoroughly enjoyed that, I can't go to work with my thighs sticking together."

"Okay," he said. He kissed her again before she slid out from between the sheets. He watched her naked figure go, smiling until he heard the water running. He curled his hand into a fist, the noise highly uncomfortable. He hated the sound of running water now. It always reminded him of the water tortures he'd endured in Moscow. In fact, he hadn't had a shower since coming back to England. Instead, he had baths, because he couldn't bear the feeling of water pouring on his head anymore. It made him want to scream. Even the sound of water running set his teeth on edge.

All of a sudden he felt his fists relax. It took him a moment to realise why. Then he heard Ruth singing to herself. She rarely sang when she knew he was listening, but she did when in the shower. She had a lovely voice, and he really enjoyed listening to her sing. He closed his eyes, focusing on the clearness of her voice. He drifted off for a few minutes, and he only woke up when Ruth came back into the room, her fingers light on his arm. "I love you," he said.

"I love you too," she said. "If you're intending to go to work today, you need to get dressed."

"Yes," he agreed, getting out of bed. He did want to go to work.

* * *

For Harry, it was both rather odd, and completely normal, stepping back through the security in Thames House. Neil and Matthew on security gave him slightly more attention than usual, which told Harry that it was obvious that everyone knew that he'd been kept in Moscow for a month, and the bare outlines of what he had endured. It wasn't the most welcoming feeling as he got into the lift to go up to the grid. As soon as the door closed, he looked at Ruth.

"You look tense," he said, taking in her pale face and her fingers twitching against the fabric of her skirt.

"I'm worried about you," she said. "I can't help it."

"I know," he said. He reached for her hand and squeezed. He gave her a light kiss on the cheek before the doors opened. "Once more unto the breach?"

"Yeah," she said. She smiled tightly as they went through the pods and got to work.

* * *

Harry had been sitting behind his desk in privacy for about ten minutes when there was a light knock on his door. "Yes?" The door opened and Adams face came around the door frame.

"Hi," he said, closing the door behind him.

"Adam, how are you?"

"Fine," he said, sitting down. "I'm worried about you."

"That seems to be a theme today," Harry said, forcing a smile. "I'm okay."

"I'm sure," he said. "I just wanted to say, that if you need anyone to talk to, I'm here. I know what its like, I've been through it. And I might be able…" he tailed off, slightly embarrassed. "Well, to listen."

"Adam, you're a good friend," Harry said. "But I would not be here if I didn't think I was capable."

"I know," Adam replied. "Take it easy though."

"I didn't think that was possibly in this job. Is it?"

"You know what I mean."

"Yes," Harry said. "Thanks." Adam left and Harry watched his friend leave. As much as he loved and valued Ruth, it was nice to know there was someone else watching out for him too.

* * *

**Thank you for the reviews so far. Hope you have the time to leave another one. More soon, probably over the weekend.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Much to my surprise, this is the last chapter. I hadn't planned it, but it seems to have worked out that way. Thanks again to TheChicaChic for giving me some advice. Enjoy.**

* * *

Ruth opened the door to the roof, which shut with a loud bang behind her. Harry couldn't help but be aware of her presence now, and she walked up to him, almost warily. He was watching over the city, the lights sparkling in the darkness. She stood next to him and he half smiled at her. "I knew you'd follow me here."

"How are you?"

"It was a tough day," he said honestly.

"We caught them all though," she said. "Before they even got near any explosives too. They're never going to breathe free air in this country ever again."

"That wasn't why it was a tough day," he said.

"No, I know," she said, smiling.

"Come here," he said, moving away from the wall a little to give her some space. She did, and within seconds found herself sandwiched between the wall and Harry's chest, her head resting against his shoulder. He wrapped his arms tightly around her as the chill air blew around them both.

"I did notice that nothing Russian made its way across my desk," he said. "Was that you?"

"Maybe," she said. "I'm having it go through Jo at the moment. Anything serious, she's giving to me." Ruth sighed. "It was going to be hard, I didn't want anything to make it worse."

"Thank you," he said, kissing her hair.

The silence spread out between the two of them, and she had to ask. "Did you come up here to be alone?"

"No," he said, arms squeezing her gently as if proving his point. "I came up here, because I knew that you'd follow. And I wanted to take a trip down memory lane."

"Oh," she said, the word heavy with meaning. She smiled at the memory and found her left hand going into a fist, feeling the gold of her engagement ring hard against her skin.

"You know I hadn't planned to propose," he said.

"What?" she asked.

"That day, up on the roof," he said. "I never intended to propose to you here. I had a plan. Well, almost a plan," he amended. "I was going to take you out to a nice restaurant, and drink an incredibly overpriced champagne. Then I was going to pop the question as it were."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because you were up here, the wind was blowing your hair lightly over your face and you looked breathtaking. I did it on the spur of the moment, so thank God you didn't say no."

"I wasn't going to say no," she said with a smile. "Why would I?"

"Well, that makes me rather pleased," he said. "Anyway, you were looking over the city, and in that moment I knew I could never, ever want anyone else in my entire life. So I asked you."

"Wait a minute," she said, thinking of something. "It couldn't have been spur of the moment, because you had the ring. It was in your pocket so you must have been planning it."

"Oh, I was planning to propose," he agreed. "I'd kept the ring in my jacket pocket for about three months."

"Three months?!" she said in complete amazement. "Why so long?"

"If I didn't ask you, there was no chance of you saying no."

"Harry, I was never going to turn you down," she said.

"Mm, but my ego can be quite a fragile thing," he admitted. "And I wanted it to be perfect. So, I kept it in my jacket so you wouldn't find it."

"For three months?"

"Give or take a week," he said, smiling at her. He breathed in deeply, the scent of her hair filling him with calm. "You're one of the most observant and clever women I've ever met. And I had to hide something from you. It was best kept in my jacket."

"You can be sweet you know?" she said, leaning back into his chest. "I wasn't expecting it. At all."

"Really?"

"No," she said. "We'd been on the grid for, what? Thirty six hours? More probably, with no sleep. And then you were down on one knee, and it all seemed like a blur. A very happy blur though," she said, leaning into him. "I promise."

"You told me you'd marry me in a heartbeat," he said, voice husky with the remembering. "But that you refused to wear white to our wedding."

She laughed lightly at the memory. "White washes me out," she said. "And I never had any desire to do the poofy white dress bride thing anyway." Harry sighed and tightened his grip around her waist. Even through the layers of fabric he could feel her warm softness against him. He'd been really lucky in her and he knew it. Not many women would trust him the way she did, and even fewer would always be there for him, through thick and thin.

"Thank you," he murmured into her hair.

"For what?"

"For being here and listening to me," he said. "You help me more than you know." She turned around in his arms and kissed him deeply, her tongue gently tracing his bottom lip.

"Of course I'd be here for you," she said. "Where else am I going to be?"

* * *

**Thank you for all the fabulous reviews and the encouragement for this fic.**


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